Wm 


UC-NRLF 


B   M   blD   fiDE 


m  MEMOmAJA 
Paul  Steindorff 
1864-1934 


No. 


Lko 


^ 


SONNETS  AND  LOVE  POEMS 


BY 

ANNA,  COMTESSE   de   BRj^MONT 


"  For  she  ie  a  daughter  of  Odin's  line. 
With  the  Noreemau's  blood  in  her  veins  ; 
And  her  soul  it  is  bound  to  the  souls  of  the  Gods 
That  reign  o'er  the  boreal  plains  I  " 


NEW  YORK 

1892 


COPTBIOHT,    1892,   BT 

ANNA,  COMTESSE  bk  BREMONT. 
^'EE  DUNPHY. 


Fresa  of  J.  J.  Little  &  Co. 
Astor  Place,  New  York 


TO  MY  HUSBAND, 

LE  COMTE  LEON  de  BREMONT, 

Chevalier  de  la  Legion  d'Honneur, 

THE  MEMORY  OF  WHOSE  TENDER  LOVE  AND 

PASSIONATE    DEVOTION 

INSPIRED    THESE    POEMS— 

THE  SOLACE  OF  MANY  SAD   HOURS— 

I    LOVINGLY    DEDICATE 

THIS  LITTLE  BOOK. 


!Vl279073 


COI^^TEISTTS. 


SONNETS. 

PAGE 

A  Sequence  op  Sonnets. 

I.  In  the  Land  of  Gold, .  3 

II,  Night  on  the  Reef, 4 

III.  O'er  the  Veldt, 5 

IV.  In  the  Ranch, 6 

V.  Love's  Consummation, 7 

VI.  Love's  Knowledge, 8 

VII.  In  Absence, 9 

VIII.  Expectancy, 10 

IX.  Jealousy,      . 11 

X.  A  Plea, 12 

XI.  Reconciliation, 13 

XII.  Finis,       14 

Morn  on  the  Cape. 

I.  Dawn, 15 

II.  Pore-glow, 16 

III.  Sunrise 17 

Midnight  Tide  on  the  Cape, 18 

Athwart  the  Equator,   ....<.,.....  19 


vi  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

To  Death, 20 

The  Parting  of  the  Year, 21 

LOVE  POEMS. 

Love, 25 

Love's  Desire, 26 

Cleopatra 27 

Cleopatra's  Dream, 28 

Cleopatra's  Night  on  the  Nile 30 

The  Arab  Lovers, 33 

The  Summer  of  Love, 39 

Love  Unheeded, 41 

Have  You  Forgotten? 42 

The  Chalet  by  the  River, 43 

A  Storm  of  Kisses, 45 

Stolen  Kisses, 46 

Lost  Kisses, 47 

A  Fallen  Star, 48 

Jilted, 49 

Danae, 51 

A  Spirit  Love, 55 

The  Song  of  Sleep, 57 

The  Soul  of  the  Sapphire, 59 

Good  Night, 63 

MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

My  Sanctuary, 67 

The  Picture  on  the  Wall,      .     .     „ 69 


CONTENTS.  vii 

PAOB 

A  Fantasy, '^^ 

Oh,  Night  of  Tears  ! 72 

Death's  Litany, "^3 

A  Dream  of  the  Sea, 74 

Song  to  the  Southern  Ocean, 76 

The  Good  Ship  Hope, 80 

The  Song  of  the  Leaves, 83 

A  Woman  of  Long  Ago, 83 

The  Two  Bands  of  Sisterhood, 85 

The  Toilers, 87 

The  Dead  Actor, 89 

To  AN  English  Actor, 91 

My  Mother's  Glove, 92 

Christmas  Morn, 94 

The  Christmas  Wreath, 97 

The  Children's  Christmas  Dinner  at  Victoria  Hall,     99 

Sister  Claire's  Confession, 102 

"She," 113 

To  Clement  Scott, 114 

To  Galatea, 115 

The  Belle  of  the  Ballet, 116 

St.  Valentine's  Revenge, 118 

The  Gift  of  Song, 120 

To  My  Mother, 131 


SOISTNETS. 


A   SEQUENCE. 


IN   THE   LAND   OF   GOLD. 

Oh  !  land  of  gold,  thou  art  a  land  of  love, 
Where   sleeps  man's  soul  steeped  in  love's  slum- 
berous wine. 
E'en  sin  here  wears  a  countenance  benign, 
As  when  Olympian  gods  held  reign  above. 
The  luscious  fever  lust  in  thy  dark  sons 
Miasma-like  creeps  thro'  the  chillest  blood. 
Until  its  subtle  stream  becomes  a  flood 
O'ersweeping  sense  and  reason  as  it  runs. 

And  I,  from  lands  across  the  cool,  deep  seas. 
Like  some  fair  bird  that  flying  singed  its  wing 
Athwart  a  crater's  fiery,  scorching  breeze. 
Or  lily  drooping  'neath  the  poisoned  sting 
Of  honeyless  tho'  gold-bedizened  bees. 
In  Passion's  summer — lost  Love's  holy  spring  ! 


aONNETS. 


II. 

NIGHT   ON   THE    REEF. 

The  sun  has  sunk,  no  tender  gloaming  cometh 

To  soothe  earth's  burning  breast ;  up  from  the  east 

Creeps   the  chill  breeze   of  night  now  day  hath 

ceased. 
List !  thro'  the  trees,  like  mystic  music,  hummeth 
The  low  sound  of  the  night  wind's  sobbing  tide. 
Hark  !  the  wild  bird  his  mellow  plaint  doth  tune  ; 
Like  pale  proud  beauty  the  voluptuous  moon 
Her  cloudy  couch  doth  press  with  silver  side. 

And  now  the  night  doth  grow  more  wondrous 

fair, 
A  thousand  shadows  their  weird  arms  up-toss. 
And  beat  witli  noiseless  pulse  the  dewy  air 
Above  the  veldt  flowers  sleeping  'mid  the  moss. 
Afar  the  planets  stream  with  fiery  hair 
Around  the  glory  of  the  Southern  Cross. 


A  SEQUENCE. 


III. 

O'ER  THE   VELDT. 

How  calm,  how  soft,  that  beauteous  Afric  night 
When  we  together  o'er  the  mossy  veldt 
Our  horses  spurred  ;  we  heard  the  silence  melt 
Beneath  their  flying  hoofs  in  onward  flight. 
Ah  !  ne'er  a  word  we  spoke,  my  Love  and  I. 
Our  hearts  beat  quick  with  sweet  foreshadowings. 
Our  souls  thrilled  as  a  harp  that  answering  sings 
When  swept  by  some  fair  unseen  sjjirit's  sigh. 

What  tho'  the  road  o'er  vale  and  over  mine 
And  kopje  lay,  and  night  grew  deeper  still. 
When  far  ahead  we  saw  the  home-light  shine, 
That   sweet   nest   light — the   ranch    upon   the 

hill  ? 
Our  horses  leapt  to  see  its  out-span  sign. 
Home  swift  they  sped,  as  water  to  the  mill ! 


SONNETS. 


IV. 

IN   THE   RANCH. 

The  smiling  moon  a  silent  welcome  cast 
Athwart  the  earthen  floor,  the  bare  brown  walls 
Seemed  fairer  than  a  prince's  frescoed  halls  ; 
A  moth  whirled,  glittering  in  the  lamplight,  past, 
Its  golden  life  the  nonce  still  brighter  grown  ; 
Fluttering  translucent  there  within  the  glow, 
Hov'ring  an  instant  o'er  its  gleaming  foe. 
Then  lost  forever  'mid  the  flame's  red  zone. 

Was  there  no  omen  in  the  insect's  doom  ? 
Silent  we  stood  within  the  threshold  dim  ; 
We  heard  afar  the  distant  battery  boom  ; 
Our  lips  mixed,  my  shy  eyes  spake  unto  him. 
A  sudden  glory  gilded  all  the  room — 
Our  cup  of  love  foamed  to  the  very  brim  ! 


A  SEQUENCE. 


LOVE'S   CONSUMMATION. 

Oh  !  night  brimful  of  bliss,  when  ne'er  a  thought 
Of  past,  of  future,  entered — when  alone 
The  present  wove  a  garland,  fragrant  blown 
As  roses,  of  the  luscious  hours  love-wrought ; 
When  our  two  souls  transfused  by  passion's  fire 
Together  grew,  till  they  became  as  one. 
E'en  as  eclipse  doth  blend  the  moon  and  sun. 
So  merged  we  in  the  heaven  of  desire. 

Then  lo  !    a  wondrous  spell  seemed  round  us 

spun. 
In  that  mysterious  moment  face  to  face 
We  stood  with  Love,  and  his  sweet  secret  won  : 
Our  throbbing  hearts  met  in  a  soft  embrace  ; 
We  felt  our  very  life-sands  quicker  run 
In  tumult  wild  to  love's  voluptuous  pace. 


SONN£TS. 


VI. 

LOVE'S   KNOWLEDGE. 

Oh  !  joy  to  be  in  love's  supernal  mould 

Forever  cast,  aye,  e'en  to  feel  and  know 

Another's  soul  with  ours  doth  daily  grow, 

And  round  our  life  its  spirit-tendrils  fold  ; 

To   know  an   answering    thought    speaks    to  our 

thought. 
As  needle  to  the  magnet  bright  doth  turn  ; 
To  feel  another's  heart-beat  throb  and  yearn 
Against  our  heart  in  sweetest  throes  love-wrought ! 

To  quaff  the  waters  clear  of  sympathy 
Together,  from  her  magic  flagon  deep. 
Till  life  seems  one  long  dream  of  rhapsody, 
AVhere  Joy  and  peace,  like  stars,  their  vigil  keep 
Athwart  the  tide  of  love's  great  ecstasy. 
Whose  waves  shall   e'en  death's  barrier   over- 


sweep 


A   SEQUENCE. 


VII. 

IN   ABSENCE. 

There  is  no  silence  in  tliis  wild^  wild  night ; 
The  wind  doth  rage  like  lion  overwrought. 
I  sit  alone  and  muse  in  quiet  thought, 
Dream-weaving  in  the  candle's  mellow  light. 
But  I  am  not  alone  ;  near  me  doth  sit 
Thine  other  self — it  is  thy  soul  I  see  ; 
And  oh!  how  sweet  the  words  it  speaks  to  me. 
How  warm  the  glow  within  its  eyes,  love-lit  ! 

And  this  it  tells  me — it  has  come  to  cheer 
My  lonely  hours  of  work  and  study  deep, 
To  soothe  me  for  the  absent  kiss  so  dear. 
And  watch  while  I  my  toilsome  vigil  keep. 
Thus,  love,  unto  each  other  we  are  near 
By  day,  by  night,  e'en  waking  and  asleep  ! 


10  SONNETS. 


VIII. 
EXPECTANCY. 

How   sweet   the    summer   night   pales   'neath   the 

moon, 
Ijike  the  rise  and  fall  of  its  trembling  mists, 
My  soul  is  swayed  as  it  longingly  lists 
For  thy  dear  step  that  ne'er  cometh  too  soon. 
The  moments  seemingly  tread  like  the  hours, 
I  hear  the  echoes  of  strange  passing  feet 
Keeping  time  to  my  heart's  impatient  beat. 
As  I  think  of  the  night  that  shall  be  ours. 

At  last  thou  art  come  !  and  in  sweet  surprise 
Thine  arms  doth  enfold  and    thrill   me  with 

bliss  ; 
E'en  my  pulse  doth  leap  to  the  sound  of  thy 

sighs. 
My  soul  is  drunk  with  thy  lingering  kiss. 
Till  I  faint  'neath  the  rapture  in  thine  eyes. 
Was  ever  Expectancy  crowned  like  this  ? 


A  SEQUENCE.  11 


IX. 

JEALOUSY. 

There  is  a  blight  that  creeps  like  dankling  mist 
Adown  the  slopes  of  some  fair  mountain  side, 
And  in  its  clammy  folds  doth  deeply  hide 
The  smiling  vale  the  sun  so  warmly  kist. 
There  is  a  subtle  secret  canker  blight ; 
Up-grows  a  worm  within  the  rosy  fruit ; 
A  blight  whose  deadly  tendrils  oft  take  root 
Within  the  sweetest  flower's  beauty  bright. 

Likewise  a  chilling  shadow  slowly  crept 
Between  our  hearts,  a  mist  of  doubt,  foul-born 
Of  Envy's  breath  ;  Love  drooped  his  head  and 

wept 
Slow,  bitter  tears,  to  feel  the  blight  of  scorn. 
Forgot  all  speech — his  very  kisses  slept 
Unchallenged  on  his  pining  lips  forlorn  ! 


12  SONNETS. 


A  PLEA. 

Is  tliere  no  charm  in  u  remembered  kiss 
To  woo  thee  to  forget  a  hasty  word  ? 
Is  there  no  memory  of  the  love  that  stirred 
Thine  inmost  being  with  deep  passion's  bhss  ? 
Is  there  no  thought,  e'en  of  those  happy  nights. 
When  'neath  the  cradle  of  the  moon  we  found — 
Whilst  music  spread  her  mantle  of  sweet  sound — 
A  joy  supreme  surpassing  all  delights  ? 

My  heart  Grief's  burning  finger  deeply  sears  ; 
Pale  the  rose-chain  wherewith  thou  decked  my 

hair  ; 
Behold  !  e'en  as  its  petals  'neath  my  tears 
Died  lingeringly,  regret  doth  me  ensnare. 
My  soul  is  sinking  'neath  a  pall  of  fears  ; 
Whilst  I  for  thee  doth  hunger  in  despair ! 


A   SEQUENCE.  13 


XI. 

RECONCILIATION. 

How  eweet  the  meeting  of  estranged  hearts. 
When  dear  Forgiveness  spreads  her  sacred  balm 
Of  grateful  tears,  and  smiles  a  sunny  calm 
Athwart  Love's  sky  a  raiubowed  light  imparts. 
Then  Love  renewed  from  holier  birth  doth  spring 
Chastened,  refined  within  affliction's  fire. 
To  golden  realms  of  happiness  still  higher 
He  plumes  his  joyous  flight  on  strengthened  wing. 

More  sweet  the  joy  of  fond  possession  seems. 
More  dear  the  treasure  of  the  refound  prize. 
More  warm  the   kiss,   more    bright  the  smile 

that  beams 
With  deepened  light  in  my  beloved's  eyes. 
But   oh  !    more  rapturous   far,    to  wake  from 

dreams, 
And  feel  Love's  throbbing  heart  that  on  mine 

lies  ! 


14  SONNETS. 


XII. 
FINIS. 

Oh  !  Love,  'tis  best  that  love's  brief  span  should 

end. 
Lost  in  the  gloom  and  shrouded  light  of  death. 
Where  steal   no    tears  —  not    e'en   the   trembling 

breath 
Of  sigh  or  moan  can  that  long  silence  rend. 
Dear  Love  !  the  grave  doth  hold  thee  fast  and  deep, 
Its  cold  embrace  now  mars  thee  with  decay. 
Poor  eyes,  poor  lips,  ye  no  surprise  betray — 
So  merciful,  so  quiet  thy  last  sleep. 

Yea,  Love  !    'Tis  best  love's  life  has  ended  so. 
In  sweet  fruition's  mellowed  bloom  and  flower, 
Tho'  numbered  here,  love's  days  have  caught 

the  glow 
That    shines    athwart    the   Eternal's    glorious 

bower. 
There,    soul    to  soul,   remembered    joys   we'll 

know. 
And  love  immortal  be  our  blissful  dower. 


SONNET.  15 


MORN   ON  THE   CAPE. 
I.   DAWN. 

Slow  waned   the  night— the  faithful   white-leaved 

friend. 
That  wooed  my  watch  with  sweet  poetic  lore, 
Fell  from  my  heedless  hand  upon  the  floor. 
As  Sleep,  soft  Sleep,  her  wings  did  o'er  me  bend. 
Soon  stole  the  pale  clear  hour  'twixt  day  and  night. 
The  candle  by  my  couch  waxed  dim  and  wan. 
When  crept  a  piuk-tipped  finger  of  the  dawn 
My  pillow  near,  and  woke  my  sleeping  sight. 

Then  swift  the  shuttered  casement  wide  I  flung. 
Gazed  out  across  the  dreaming  sea  below. 
Whose  white-capped   surf  a  low-voiced  matin 

sung; 
Far  Afric's  peaks   dark  loomed  against    the 

glow 
Of  gold  that  on  the  sky's  gray  edges  hung, 
Like  some  celestial  river's  overflow. 


16  SONNET. 


II.    FORE-GLOW. 

And  now  more  amber-hued,  more  luminous  grows 
The  tide  of  light  athwart  the  horizon's  brim, 
Uplighting  peak  and  sombre  mountain  dim  ; 
Gray  melts  to  pearl,  and  pearl  to  faintest  rose  ; 
An  opal-tinted  splendor  bathes  the  sky. 
The  clouds  seem  in  a  rainbowed  haze  to  swim 
Adown  tlie  blushing  west,  whose  purpled  rim 
Pales  violet,  as  night's  dark  vapors  die. 

An  iris-tinted  sheen  creeps  o'er  the  sea, 
And  o'er  the  sleeping  town,  all  wan  and  white 
Gleam  cottage,  spire,  and  roof  :  Avhile  every  tree 
And  shrub  beneath  the  tabled -mountain's  height 
Drinks  in  the  glow  ;  with  silent  quivering  glee 
Breathless  awaits  the  world  the  god  of  light ! 


SONNET.  17 


III.    SUNRISE. 

Lo  !  o'er  yon  mountain's  bine  and  jagged  crest 
Behold  !  the  glow,  like  gate  of  Paradise. 
A  thousand  rays  their  flaming  swords  uprise 
All  ruddy,  gold  and  silvered  amethyst. 
Far  out  across  the  sea  each  phantom  light 
Fades  on  the  swinging  mast,  while  bark  and  ship 
Start  into  waking  life,  and  gayly  dip 
The  rosy  prow  'mid  waters  ruby  bright. 

With  slow  majestic  pace  and  lurid  blaze 
Upstreams  the  glorious  God  of  sea  and  earth, 
The  dazzled  heavens  revel  in  his  rays. 
Mountain  and  wave  reflect  their  golden  mirth  ; 
The  fair  white  town  sings  forth  a  hymn  of  praise 
In  joyous  paean  to  the  new  day's  birth. 


18  SONNETS. 


MIDNIGHT   TIDE   ON  THE   CAPE. 

Away,  across  the  waters  dark  and  wide, 
Far,  far  as  eye  and  Fanc/s  wing  can  fly. 
From  out  the  arms  of  amorous  sea  and  sky. 
Forth  springs  a  sprite,  it  is  the  midnight  tide  I 
Her  feet  are  silvery  white,  her  robes  of  spray 
Hide  all  her  beauty  in  a  mist  of  light 
Caught  from  the  stars,  as  on  in  dazzling  flight 
She  leaps  and  frolics  towards  the  Table-bay. 

Aloft  her  snowy  arms  with  glee  she  flings. 
In  rhythm  to  the  waves'  melodious  tune. 
Till,  maddened  as  the  music  fiercer  rings. 
Upon  the  rocks  she  sinks  in  sighing  swoon 
An  instant ;  back  into  the  sea  she  springs, 
To  speed  away,  low  laughing  at  the  moon  ! 


A  THWART  THE  EQUA  TOR.  19 


ATHWART  THE   EQUATOR. 

Radiant  and  slow,  the  velvet  waters  o'er. 
Uprose  the  golden  crescent  of  the  moon, 
Tinging  with  mellow  light  the  night's  blue  noon, 
Thrusting  ajar  the  morning's  purpled  door. 
Sweet  smile  the  stars  and  answering  coos  the  breeze. 
Quiescent  breathe  the  billows  in  their  sleep. 
Nestled  within  the  Equator's  cradle  deep. 
Whence  flows  the  foam-tipped  nectar  of  the  seas. 

On,  on,  and  on,  smooth  sails  our  trusty  ship, 
Full-freighted  with  its  load  of  throbbing  hearts. 
The  sparkling  eye,  the  oft-kissed  ruby  lip. 
Beams  with  the  joy  the  fleeting  hour  imparts. 
All  in  a  world  our  own  we  careless  sip 
The  Avine  of  life,  brewed  'mid  the  ocean-marts. 


20  SONNETS. 


TO   DEATH. 

Oh  I  cruel  death,  shalt  thou  never  grow  old, 
Will  thy  hand  its  merciless  task  ne'er  cease. 
Thine  arms  wilt  thou  never  cast  down  in  peace, 
And  round  thee  forever  thy  mantle  fold  ? 

Oh  !  phantom  king,  thou  hast  stolen  away 
The  soul  of  my  love,  to  thy  regions  dim. 
If  thou  hast  pity — ah  !  whisper  to  him, 
A  chaplet  of  tears  on  his  heart  I  lay  ! 

Whisper,  that  Memory  shall  ceaselessly  sob 
Her  song  of  requiem  o'er  the  dead  past. 
Love's  sorrowing  heart  shall  wearily  throb — 
Love's  eyes  be  dimmed  by  thy  sliadow  o'ercast, 
Press  on  those  lips,  thou  didst  ruthlessly  rob 
For  me  one  long  tremulous  kiss — the  last ! 


THE  PARTING  OF  THE   TEAR.  21 


THE   PARTING   OF  THE   YEAR. 

The  midnight  hour  had  come.     With  tearful  eyes 

And  sad  the  Old  Year  strained  I  to  my  breast. 

For  we  were  loth  to  part— his  lips  I  pressed 

All  tenderly  in  answer  to  his  sighs. 

A  generous  lover  he  ;  to  say  good-bye 

Wrung  heart  and  soul,  bowed   was   his   head  and 

chilled 
The  hand  with  gifts  and  blessings  lately  filled. 
'Twas  hard  to  part— the  dear  Old  Year  and  I. 

Lo  !  as  he  lingered,  came  thro'  casement  pane 

A  silvery  summons  echoing  far  and  near. 

He    faltered,    trembled,    gasped,    then    thrust 

atwain 
The  casement,  vanished  in  the  starlight  clear, 
No  vestige  leaving  of  his  happy  reign, 
While  hand  in  hand  stood  I  and  the  New  Year  ! 


LOYE   POEMS. 


LOVE. 

From  whence  he  does  come  and  whither  he  goes, 
There  is  not  a  mortal  in  all  the  world  knows. 
He  comes  in  a  smile,  he  goes  in  a  kiss. 
He  dies  in  the  birth  of  a  maiden's  bliss. 
He  wakes  in  a  tear,  he  lives  in  a  sigh. 
He  lingers  in  hope,  refusing  to  die  ; 
But  whence  he  does  come,  and  whither  he  goes. 
There  is  not  a  mortal  in  all  the  world  knows  ! 


2G  LOVE  POEMS. 


LOVE'S  DESIRE. 

Make  of  thine  arms  a  wreath.  Love  ! 

Entwine  me  in  its  link. 
Make  of  thy  lips  a  cup.  Love  ! 

Where  kisses  I  may  drink. 

Make  of  thine  eyes  a  torch,  Love  ! 

The  happy  hours  to  light. 
Make  of  thy  smile  a  dream.  Love  ! 

To  fill  with  joy  the  night. 

Make  of  thy  voice  a  song,  Love  ! 

That  shall  forever  sing. 
Make  of  thy  heart  a  throne.  Love  ! 

And  crown  me  as  its  king. 


CLEOPATRA.  27 


CLEOPATRA. 


Of  human  love  the  queen. 
Wanton,  and  bold,  yet  coy  ; 
Euling  by  womanly  mien. 
Danger  and  death  thy  toy. 

II. 

A  thousand  women's  eyes 
In  thine  mysterious  shine  ; 
A  thousand  lovers'  sighs 
Around  thy  name  entwine. 


28  LOVE  POEMS. 


CLEOPATRA'S  DREAM. 

Oh  Antony  ! 

Last  night,  in  dreams,  again 

I  felt  your  kisses  rain 

Upon  my  lips,  till  through 

Them  all  my  soul  you  drew. 

Aud  soon  I  trembling  felt 

Those  kisses  softly  melt 

Warm  on  my  neck,  and  rest 

Upon  each  heaving  breast. 

But  oh  !  how  hot  they  fell 

Above  my  heart,  ah,  well ! 

Just  then  I  woke, — Alas  ! 

So  sweet  a  dream  should  pass. 

And  leave  me  longing  still. 

To  feel  those  kisses  thrill 

All  through  the  night. 
My  heart's  delight. 

Oh  Antony  ! 
Again  upon  me  fell 
A  dream,  and  in  its  spell 
I  passionately  bound 
You  with  my  limbs  around — 


CLEOPATRA'S   DREAM.  29 

I  felt  your  arms  enfold 
Me,  and  you  closely  hold 
Me,  and  I  felt  your  heart 
Throb — throb — and  wildly  start 
As  Love's  rapturous  pain 
Thrill'd  mad  through  every  vein. 
Glowing,  your  lips  on  mine 
Burned  like  some  sweet  hot  wine  ; 
And  when  you  sank  to  rest. 
Faint,  panting,  on  my  breast. 
Within  my  arms  I  kept 
You — as  you  softly  slept. 

All  through  the  night ! 

Egypt's  delight. 


30  LOVE  POEMS. 


CLEOPATRA'S  NIGHT  ON  THE  NILE. 

I. 

Away  on  the  green  flowing  river, 

Last  eve,  'neath  the  moon's  silver  shiver, 

In  my  silk  curtained  boat, 

I  wandered  afloat. 

Alone,  with  my  slaves  at  the  helm. 

The  waves,  and  the  sky's  spangled  realm. 

II. 

On  my  bosom  the  red  roses  grouped 

'Neath  my  hot  pulses  withered  and  drooped. 

And  the  pink  flesh  I  tore 

Where  thy  lips  wandered  o'er. 

Till  my  heart  seemed  to  sink  in  a  swoon. 

As  I  poured  out  my  woes  to  the  moon  ! 

III. 

For,  with  yearning,  sore-sick  was  my  heart. 

Faint  with  hungering  for  thee,  far  apart 

'Mid  Romans,  my  Roman, 

Thou  dearest  of  foemeu. 

Till  I  prayed  the  Nile's  pearly  billow 

Would  steep  me  in  Lethe's  cold  pillow. 


CLEOPATRA'S  NIGHT  ON  THE  NILE.        31 

IV. 

But  the  wave  danced,  and  shimmered,  and  sung. 

O'er  my  couch,  its  spray  mockingly  flung ; 

But  it  cooled  not  my  breast. 

Nor  my  eyelids,  oppressed 

With  the  night's  sleepless  longing  and  ache. 

Till  I  writhed  like  a  slave  at  the  stake. 


Oh  !  the  tongue  of  the  breeze  like  a  flame 

Licked  and  scorched,  where  you  kisses  would  claim. 

Like  a  river  of  fire 

Leapt  my  blood  with  desire 

To  hold  you,  to  fold  you,  to  press  you. 

With  lips  and  with  arms  to  caress  you  ! 

VI. 

Afloat  on  the  green  flowing  river. 

Last  night,  'neath  the  moon's  silver  shiver. 

While  all  the  world  slept. 

With  madness  I  wept 

For  thou  of  the  Romans,  my  Eoman, 

Love's  swordsman,  thou  dearest  of  foemen  ! 


32  LOVE  POEMS. 


THE   ARAB   LOVERS. 

Farewell,  love  !  while  thy  caress 

Still  thrills  on  my  lips. 

Farewell  !  for  the  day  wanes  less. 

And  the  great  sun  dips 

His  fiery  head  in  the  west. 

The  hot  winds  away 

O'er  the  desert's  burning  breast 

Sweep  after  the  day. 

Farewell  ! — ah  ! — one  long  deep  kiss. 

'Twill  brighten  the  hours 

Of  night's  dark  dreary  abyss 

With  dreamland  flowers. — 

On  eyes — on  lips — on  hand — 

Hot  thy  kisses  cling — 

Farewell  !  to  my  father's  band 

I  fly  on  tlie  wing 

Of  my  brave  wild  Arab  steed. 

'Tis  death  here  to  dwell — 

Away  !  away,  I  must  speed 

Till  the  morn— Farewell  ! " 

<'  Nay — speed  not  over  the  plain. 
For  the  night  creeps  near. 
The  hour  of  the  lion's  reign 
Will  soon,  soon  be  here. 


THE  ARAB  LO  VERS.  33 

The  panther's  eye  gleaming  greed. 

With  dull  glare  alight, 

Will  track  thee  as  on  thou'll  speed 

Through  the  darksome  night, 

And  bear  thee  a  captive  sweet 

To  his  bloody  lair. 

And  devour  with  hungry  teeth 

Thy  soft  flesh  so  fair, 

And  he'll  quench  his  cruel  thirst 

In  the  sweet  warm  flood. 

As  swift  from  thy  blue  veins  burst 

The  stream  of  thy  blood, 

Till  drunk  with  the  crimson  flow 

From  thy  tender  breast. 

He'll  sink  in  a  gluttonous  glow 

By  thy  side  to  rest ! " 

"  Soul  of  my  heart !  tremble  not. 
For  here  in  my  arms. 
As  we  speed  the  desert  hot. 
Rest  safe  from  alarms  ; 
In  a  dayat  green  and  fair. 
Where  the  soft  winds  sigh, 
I  will  bear  thee  to  my  lair, 
'Neath  the  night's  deep  sky. 
For  I  Love's  panther  shall  be. 
Thy  sweets  to  devour. 
With  rapturous  panting  glee 
As  bee  sucks  the  flower, 
3 


34  LOVE  POEMS. 

The  teeth  of  my  kisses  sting 

Deep  thy  bosom  sweet. 

My  Hps  shall  hungering  cling 

To  thy  slender  feet. 

And  over  thy  lips  and  eyes 

Burning  kisses  pour, 

And  drink  deep  with  happy  sighs 

Of  love's  sweetest  store  ! 

The  stars  and  the  envious  moon — 

And  the  glow-worm  red— =- 

Shall  pierce  the  night's  paling  gloom, 

To  gloat  o'er  our  bed  ! 

And  we'll  kiss  the  hours  away, 

Till  the  east  unfurl. 

The  banner  of  radiant  day 

In  splendorous  whirl  !  " 

'Twas  the  darkest  hour  of  night. 
For  the  moon  hung  low, 
And  clouds  in  scurrying  flight 
Swept  over  her  glow. 
Afar  in  the  purple  east 
The  stars,  one  by  one. 
Their  silvery  vigil  ceased. 
For  the  great  red  sun 
Would  soon  his  fiery  rim 
Shoot  up  through  the  gloom 
Of  the  far  horizon's  brim. 
To  vanquish  tlie  moon. 


THE  ARAB  LOVERS.  35 

And  a  slumberous  silence  hung 

O'er  the  desert  air — 

No  longer  their  wild  howl  rung  ; 

For  hushed  in  their  lair, 

The  tiger  and  panther  slept — 

But  a  mighty  one 

Still  roamed  and  stealthily  crept, 

E'er  the  day  begun. 

To  the  dayat's  cooling  shade. 

Where  the  waters  sprung 

'Mid  a  green  and  mossy  glade. 

Where  sheltering  hung 

The  boughs  of  the  desert  tree. 

Came  the  lion  brave. 

With  his  bold  mane  flowing  free. 

In  the  spring  to  lave — 

And  slowly  his  shadow  fell 

O'er  the  sleeping  pair. 

And  amazed  his  eyes  did  dwell 

On  the  faces  fair 

Of  those  lovers  closely  bound 

In  abandon  sweet. 

Heart  to  heart— smooth  limbs  enwound. 

While  pulse  to  pulse  beat ; 

As  in  dreams  they  felt  again 

The  rapturous  kiss — 

The  thrill— the  sigh— and  the  pain 

Of  Love's  deepest  bliss. 


36  LOVE  POEMS. 

Slow  fell  his  shadow  away — 

And  noiseless  his  stride, 

He  stole  in  the  moonlight  ray 

To  his  tawny  bride, 

Where,  deep  in  her  darksome  den, 

He  told  her  the  tale 

Of  the  wondrous  love  of  men. 

Till  the  night  grew  pale  ! 

Slow  the  dawn  with  lambent  flame 

Crept  over  the  plain. 

Afar  in  its  faint  light  came 

A  shadowy  train 

Of  horsemen  galloping  on. 

For  deadly  intent, 

As  hurrying  with  the  dawn 

Swift  speed  to  them  lent. 

They  sought  the  fugitive  child 

Of  their  noble  chief. 

Their  hearts  with  revenge  beat  wild. 

For  disgrace  and  grief 

In  their  chieftain's  proud  breast  burned. 

And  in  Allah's  name 

Their  course  to  the  dayat  turned. 

In  silence  and  shame 

They  gathered  a  dusky  throng. 

And  never  a  wave 

Of  pity  for  youthful  wrong 

Swept  their  purpose  grave. 


THE  ARAB  LOVERS.  37 

Close  around  the  sleeping  pair — 

As  in  dreams  they  lay. 

Lip  to  lip  and  mingling  hair. 

While  the  amber  ray 

Of  the  morning  softly  stole 

With  a  tender  kiss, — 

The  last  sad  pitiful  dole 

Of  their  short-lived  bliss — 

Press'd  the  dark-brow'd  Arab  clan. 

Lo  !  the  chieftain's  spear 
Flashed  aloft — then  deadly  ran — 
Ne'er  trembling  with  fear, 
Transfix'd  with  swift  cruel  blow. 
With  deadliest  dart — 
In  the  stream  of  death's  red  flow. 
Their  forms — heart  to  heart ! 

The  moon  with  shimmering  light 

Stole  up  through  the  sky. 

As  on  in  hungry  flight 

With  fierce  growl  and  cry. 

To  the  dayat's  dainty  feet. 

With  red  tooth  and  claw. 

Sped  each  hungry  howling  beast 

With  ravenous  maw, — 

To  pause  in  the  sombre  glare 

Of  the  lion's  eye. 

As  he  held  his  vigil  there 

With  his  fierce  mate  nigh. 


38  LOVE  POEMS. 

As  mournful  they  crouched  beside- 
With  strange  watcliful  grief — 
The  dead  Arab  and  his  bride 
Through  the  night  hours  brief, 
While  the  moon  her  vigil  kept, 
And  the  stars  uprose. 
And  the  night-dews  softly  wept 
O'er  their  human  woes  ! 


THE  SUMMER  OF  LOVE.  39 


THE   SUMMEE   OF   LOVE. 

Fold  thy  wings,  liappy  hour,  and  rest  here  awhile, 

'Neath  the  spell  of  her  beauty  and  grace, 
'Mid  the  perfumed  shadows  my  soul  to  beguile, 

'Neath  the  flower-like  charm  of  her  face  ; 
Let  me  drink  in  the  music  of  love's  every  tone. 

Like  the  whisper  of  angels  above. 
Oh  !  sweetest  of  women,  for  you — you  alone. 

Is  this  hour  of  our  summer  of  love. 


Oh  !  sweet  dreamy  eyes  all  your  splendour  unveil, 

In  their  depths  let  me  lingering  gaze. 
Faint  round  us  the  roses  their  fragrance  exhale. 

In  the  twilight's  pale  mystical  haze. 
On  wings  rosy  tipped  the  daylight  has  flown, 

Venus  glittering  shines  out  above. 
Oh  !  sweetest  of  women,  for  you — you  alone. 

Is  this  hour  of  ovir  summer  of  love. 


These  soft  trembling  hands  that  I  fold  warm  in 
mine. 

Pressing  close  to  my  fast-throbbing  heart — 
These  fair  golden  tresses  sweet  scented  like  wine. 

Of  thy  beauty  a  glorious  part  ; 


40  LOVE  POEMS. 

These  lips  where   dwell   kisses,    the   sweetest  e'er 
known. 

Filled  with  rapture  all  pleasures  above, 
Oh  !  sweetest  of  Avomen,  are  mine — mine  alone. 

In  this  hour  of  our  summer  of  love. 


LOVE   UNHEEDED.  4L 


LOVE  UNHEEDED. 


Groping  in  the  darksome  way 
And  drear,  where  buried  lay 
The  love  of  bygone  years, 
My  spirit  wandered. 
Sank  down  and  pondered 
Weary,  in  a  vale  of  tears. 

II. 

Musing  sad,  in  doubt  and  fear. 
She  knew  not  Love  stole  near. 
Laughing  low  at  sigh  and  moan. 
Heard  not  the  winging — 
Felt  not  the  stinging 
Of  his  shaft^till  he  had  flown  ! 


42  LOVE  POEMS. 


HAVE   YOU   FORGOTTEN? 

Have  you  forgotten  the  bright  happy  hours 

That  smiled  on  our  summer  of  love, 
Wlien  we  gathered  sweet  sympathy's  flowers, 

And  prized  them  all  others  above  ? 
Have  you  forgotten  the  long  happy  nights. 

Of  music  and  melody's  song, 
When  your  eyes  told  love's  tale  'mid  flowers  and 
lights. 

And  hum  of  the  gay  brilliant  throng  ? 
Oh  !  dearer  than  life  was  love's  gracious  boon — 
Have  you  forgotten  that  sweet  spell  so  soon  ? 

Have  you  forgotten  the  future  we  saw 

In  the  firelight  glimmering  dim  ? 
The  glorious  future,  years  without  flaw. 

With  love  filling  life  to  the  brim. 
Have  you  forgotten  the  vows  whispered  low, 

In  the  hush  of  tremulous  light. 
The  promise — the  kisses  that  throbbed  with  love's 
glow. 

The  pledge  of  that  rapturous  night  ? 
Oh  !  dearer  than  life  was  love's  precious  boon. 
Have  you  forgotten  that  sweet  spell  so  soon  ? 


THE  CHALET  BY  THE  BIVEB.  43 


THE   CHALET   BY   THE   RIVER. 

By  the  river's  rippling  fiow^, 
Where  the  soft  winds  fragrant  blow. 
And  the  shadows  stretch  below 
Where  the  fishes  come  and  go, 
And  the  stately  swan-birds  lave 
In  the  green  and  sunny  wave. 
My  love  and  I  together. 
In  the  golden  summer  weather. 
Laughed  and  sang  the  hours  away. 
Where  the  sunshine  dreaming  lay, 

In  the  chdlet  by  the  river. 


There  we  watched  eacli  little  boat. 

Gaily  laden  past  us  float, 

As  we  heard  each  silvery  note. 

From  the  song-bird's  downy  throat, 

Thrilling  all  the  long  day  through 

^Neath  the  hazy  summer  blue  ; 

Where  the  cloud-boats  idly  fly. 

O'er  the  river  of  the  sky. 

In  our  hearts  deep  rapture  sank. 

As  from  love's  sweet  cup  we  drank, 

In  the  chalet  by  the  river. 


44  LOVE  POEMS. 

When  the  tender  gloaming  fell, 

With  its  shadowy  mystic  spell. 

Over  river,  vale,  and  dell. 

In  deep  solitude  to  dwell. 

My  love  and  I  fond  plighted 

Our  troth  in  bliss  united. 

While  our  hearts  sweet  rhythm  kept. 

As  the  moonlight  softly  crept. 

Slyly  through  the  latticed  rail. 

Listening  to  love's  happy  tale, 

In  the  chalet  by  the  river. 


A  STORM  OF  KISSES.  45 


A  STORM   OF   KISSES. 

What  bliss  is  there  in  all  the  world 
To  equal  that  when  love  unfurled 
His  crimson  flag,  while  passion  whirl'd 
The  soul,  and  then  exulting  hurl'd 
Within  the  heart's  abyss, 
A  burning  luscious  kiss  ! 

A  kiss  that  lip  to  lip  fast  bound. 
Sending  the  hot  blood  coursing  round 
Through  every  purple  vein  that  wound 
Its  supple  way,  until  it  drowned 

With  crimson  burning  rush. 
That  sweet  kiss  in  a  blush  ! 

And  swift  another  kiss  was  born 
To  live  one  rapturous  moment  warm. 
Then  softly  die  beneath  the  storm 
That  blazed  in  eyes  whom  love  did  arm 
With  tender  glances  there, 
Kisses  to  still  ensnare  ! 

Oh  !  then  a  storm  of  kisses  sent 
O'er  lips  and  eyes  hot  ravishment. 
On  cheek  and  neck  their  fury  spent. 
And  resting  there  in  sweet  content 
To  blend  in  one  long  kiss. 
And  melting,  die  in  bliss. 


46  LOVE  POEMH. 


STOLEN   KISSES. 

There  are  kisses  that  purple  the  lips  where  they 

press, 
Until  swollen  with  passionate  maddening  greed  ; 
There  are  kisses  that  fall  like  a  holy  caress, 
Sacred  seal  of  the  true  lovers'  heavenly  creed. 

There  are  kisses  that  burn  with  a  sweet  subtle  fire, 
Like  the  glow  in  the  lieart  of  golden  old  wine  ; 
There  are  kisses  that  swoon  in  the  wave  of  desire. 
As  it  sweeps  o'er  the  soul  in  a  rapture  divine. 

But  oh  !  the  most  thrilling,  the  sweetest  of  kisses, 
Are  the  kisses  that  silently  fall  like  the  dew. 
The  sweet  stolen  kisses — that  nobody  misses. 
The  sly  pilfered  kisses — that  never  are  true  ! 


LOST  KISSES.  47 


LOST  KISSES. 

Oh  !  where  are  the  kisses  we  gave  that  night 
In  the  golden  spring  of  Love's  blushing  year  ; 

Oh  !  where  the  kisses  we  gave  when  the  light 
Of  its  radiant  morn  dawned  bright  and  clear  ? 

Oh  !  where  the  kisses  that  slept  on  my  breast— 
Oh  !  where  the  kisses  that  fell  on  mine  eyes— 

Oh  !  where  the  kisses,  the  sweetest  and  best, 
That  clung  to  my  lips  with  lingering  sighs  ? 

Lost  kisses,  I  fain  would  gather  ye  back 
Where'er  on  the  shore  of  the  Past  ye  be. 

'Twould  be  more  than  mortal  could  do— alack  ! 
For  ye  would  outnumber  the  sands  o'  the  sea  ! 


48  LOVi:  POEMS. 


A  FALLEN  STAR. 

The  heavens  are  raining  stars  to-night 

AthAvart  the  southern  sea, 
And  one  I've  caught  in  its  golden  flight, 

A  captive  for  you  and  me. 

It  shall  be  our  world,  this  fallen  star. 

Its  silence  to  life  we'll  thrill 
With  the  music  of  kisses  echoing  far 

O'er  dreamy  river  and  hill. 

The  voice  of  love  shall  alone  be  heard 

In  its  silent  stately  halls  ; 
The  fire  of  love  shall  alone  be  stirred 

'Mid  its  frozen  crystal  walls. 

Oh  !  waif  of  the  silver  midnight  sky, 
'Neath  the  Southern  Cross  afar 

We'll  live,  we'll  love,  aye  !  we'll  never  die. 
In  thy  realm,  oh  !  fallen  star. 


JILTED.  49 


JILTED. 

So  'tis  sin  to  love  you,  my  sweet  ! 

Oh,  God  !  can  it  be. 
That  the  love  which  tenderly  beat. 

Between  you  and  me, 
Should  change  to  an  unholy  thing, 

At  a  word — the  spell 
Of  a  white-robed  priest  and  a  ring, 

The  chime  of  a  bell? 

Let  me  look  in  your  fair,  false  face. 

'Tis  ever  the  same, 
With  its  beauteous  lines  of  grace 

In  its  ruddy  frame. 
How  oft  as  I've  sailed  the  deep  seas 

Those  eyes  were  my  light — 
While  your  voice  echoed  on  the  breeze 

Through  my  watch  at  night. 

I've  seen  your  smile  many  a  time 

Flash  out  of  the  w^ave. 
It's  held  me  in  every  clime 

'Mid  the  gay  and  grave. 
Oh,  God,  was  it  only  for  this 

I've  loved  you  these  years. 
To  feel  all  my  hopes  and  my  bliss 

Melt  swift  as  my  tears  ! 
4 


50  LOVE  POEMS. 

And  here  is  your  poor  little  ring ; 

Its  mission  is  done. 
See  !  I  crush  the  frail  golden  thing. 

As  I  would — false  one  ! — 
The  life  in  your  treacherous  heart. 

Ah  !  time  sets  all  aright. 
He's  slow,  but  he'll  sure  play  his  part 

To  revenge  me — Good-night ! 


DANAE.  61. 


DANAE. 

Within  a  brazen  chamber  cavern 'd  deep. 
Where  flickering  lights  their  shadowy  vigils  keep. 
And  royal  skins,  torn  from  some  lion's  lair. 
Their  tawny  splendour  scatter  everywhere, 
While  jewelled  shrines  reflect  the  amber  light, 
Low-burning  at  their  gods  through  all  the  night. 
Destined  to  hold  its  dreaming  sombre  sway 
Through  years  untold — the  sleeping  Danae  lay. 

A  watchful  slave  slow-fanned  the  perfumed  air. 
Another  thrilled  the  silence  hovering  there. 
As  from  the  lute  low  melody  she  swept. 
That  like  the  breeze  of  summer  softly  crept 
Thro'  every  dream  that  cast  its  silver  spell 
O'er  drooping  lids,  and  snowy  bosom's  swell. 
O'er  all  her  charms  and  glorious  grace  of  limb. 
As  like  a  pearl  within  the  purple  rim 
Of  her  soft  couch  the  prison'd  Danae  slept. 
While  tender  cadence  sweetest  measure  kept. 

And  as  the  music-flowing  rhythm  falls 
And  rises,  all  its  melody  recalls  ' 

Her  childhood's  years,  and  'neath  its  dreamy  strain 
She  sees  the  sunshine  and  the  summer  rain, 


52  LOVE  POEMS. 

She  feels  the  night  breeze  fan  her  tresses  fair. 
She  gazes  on  the  moon's  bright  bosom  bare. 
She  stretches  forth  her  hand  in  joyous  bliss, 
And  wafts  to  every  silver  star  a  kiss  ; 
And  as  her  dreams'  sweet  visions  fade  away. 
Her  soul  yearns  for  the  banished  light  of  day, 
As  mournfully  her  waking  glances  fall 
Around  the  shadow  of  her  prison's  wall. 

*'  Cease  !  Myros,  thy  lute's  sweet  heavenly  strain. 
'Tis  only  in  dreams  I  hear  Avithout  pain 
Its  mellow  note — Clito,  bind  up  my  hair. 
The  breeze  of  my  dream  seems  lingering  there  ; 
I  fain  would  forget  the  green  earth  above. 
The  stars  and  the  moon,  the  sunlight  and  love." 
Then  fast-falling  tears  bedimmed  her  bright  eyes. 
And  jewelled  the  gauze  that  lluttering  lies 
Across  her  white  breast,  where  longing  and  grief 
Found  vent  in  sad  sighs  and  tearful  relief. 
"  Begone  !  gentle  slaves,  I'd  fain  be  alone. 
The  Gods  I'll  implore  my  fate  to  atone." 


Then  swiftly  away  they  silently  stole. 

While  Danae  poured  out  all  her  passionate  soul 

In  a  prayer  laden  down  with  piteous  words, 

That,  wavering,  strove  like  poor  fettered  birds 

To  feebly  sever  the  pitiless  snare 

That  bound  her,  and  held  her  a  prisoner  there. 


DANAE.  53 

*'  Helios  !  Helios  !  hear  me/'  she  cried, 

'*  Giver  of  sunshine,  life's  glory  and  pride. 

Am  I  forever  to  bear  this  sad  lot, 

Through  fear  and  a  hatred  paternal  begot  ? 

Break,  scatter  my  bonds,  these  brazen  walls  burst. 

For  sunshine,  for  love,  and  freedom  I  thirst ; " 

Away  on  a  sigh  the  plaintive  prayer  wings 

Its  flight  where  perpetual  melody  sings. 

And  Zeus  in  his  dreaming  heard  the  faint  sigh. 

As  it  sank  on  his  breast  to  trembling  lie. 

"  'Tis  a  maiden's  breath, '''  he  wakening  cried, 
"  The  sigh  of  a  maid  I've  sought  far  and  wide  ; 
Lead  me,  sweet  messenger,  to  her  abode," 
And  straightway  his  golden  chariot  he  strode  ; 
On  the  wings  of  the  sigh  exultingly  spread, 
Plunged  thro'  the  veil  of  the  morn's  rosy  bed. 
Thro'  star-blazoned  clouds,  and  swiftly  was  whirl'd 
On  the  brow  of  the  earth's  fair  flow'ry  world. 
Ceasing  not  his  sweeping,  luminous  flight. 
Till  he  flooded  with  streams  of  radiant  light 
The  caverned  gloom,  dispelled  with  his  glow 
The  darkness  of  years  that  reign'd  there  below, 
Eevealing  the  sumptuous  beauty  and  grace 
Of  Danae's  fair  form  and  starry-eyed  face. 

Zeus  then  in  a  moment  of  mad  desire. 
Transformed  by  the  charm  of  love's  potent  fire. 
His  God-form  changed  to  a  shower  of  gold. 
Enveloping  in  his  amorous  fold 


54  LOVH  POEMS. 

Each  ivory-tinted,  rose-tipped  breast, 

Each  fair  rounded  limb  Avith  rapture  caressed, 

Swift  rent  in  his  longing  fiery  haste, 

The  zone  circled  round  her  supple  white  waist. 

Then  deep  burned  the  sting  of  each  golden  kiss. 

And  wild  thrilled  her  heart  Avitli  answering  bliss  ; 

With  strange  new  delight,  with  rapturous  pain 

Was  born  the  knowledge  that  never  would  wane. 

Ne'er  leave  her  life  void,  but  like  some  fair  noon, 

Ensplendour,  enripen  her  with  its  sweet  bloom. 

Soon  o'er  her  senses  a  subtle  spell  hung, 
The  god's  golden  kisses  btfrningly  clung — 
Weary  with  ecstasy,  melting  to  rest 
In  the  billowy  cradle  of  her  breast. 


A  SPIRIT  LOVE.  55 


A   SPIEIT    LOVE. 

I've  sought  for  love  through  all  the  year. 

Unceasing  sought  both  far  and  near, 

Longing  again  to  fondly  rest 

Upon  some  loving  faithful  breast. 

Seeking  a  kindred  soul  to  find. 

That  through  sweet  sympathy  would  bind 

Our  life  together  in  its  spell. 

And  never  for  one  hour  to  dwell 

Apart,  alone,  but  ever  near. 

Bound  closely  in  those  chains  so  dear  ; 

But  I  have  sought,  alas  !  in  vain, 

Through  tears  and  bitterness  and  pain. 

Once  in  a  singer's  mellow  voice 

Its  tone  made  all  my  heart  rejoice. 

Here  dwells  the  love  I  seek,  I  cried, 

But  when  the  song  had  ceased — love  died. 

Again  I  thought  I  saw  it  shine 

In  eyes  that  gazed  deep  into  mine  ; 

I  only  saw  reflected  there 

The  love  that  I  alone  did  bear. 

And  once  again  I  thought  I  felt 

Its  thrill,  as  on  my  lips  there  dwelt 

A  kiss,  so  sweet,  so  warm, — alas  ! 

E'en  as  it  burned  I  felt  love  pass. 


56  LOVE  POEMS 

A  poet's  verse  my  soul  deep-stirred, 
Love  breath 'd  in  every  glowing  woid. 
But  like  a  dream  supremely  fair 
It  vanished — e'er  I  held  it  there. 
But  why  should  Love,  who  seeketh  ever 
Me  to  bind,  his  chains  thus  sever  ? 
Because  a  spirit  love  doth  claim. 
And  jealous  guard  the  sacred  flame 
That  glows  and  burns  within  my  heart, 
Clear,  bright,  and  pure,  from  earth  apart, 
Until  death's  portals  wide  are  thrown, 
And  to  that  love  my  soul  hath  flown. 


TEE  SONG   OF  SLEEP.  57 


THE   SONG   OF   SLEEP. 

When  Sleep,  sweet  Sleep,  with  silent  band. 
Steals  near  my  couch  to  softly  lay 
On  weary  eyes  her  gentle  hand — 
Swift  vanish  all  the  cares  of  day. 
Then  one  by  one  that  silent  throng 
Prepare  to  follow  Sleep's  command 
And  weave  into  my  dreams  a  song, 
A  song  too  sweet  for  mortal  land. 

They  sing  through  all  the  long  dark  night 

In  tones  so  wildly,  strangely  sweet — 

Of  hopes  fulfilled  and  joy's  delight, 

And  far-off  friends  once  more  to  greet. 

And  then  of  love  they  softly  sing, 

Of  love  restored,  until  each  strain 

Thrills  through  my  heart  and  seems  to  bring 

The  happy  Past  all  back  again. 

For  Love  is  mine  once  more  to  hold — 
Kiss  back  to  life  its  dear  dim  eyes. 
Close  to  my  trembling  heart  to  fold 
The  shadow  of  those  severed  ties. 
Then  rapturous  tears  my  pillow  steep. 
As  round  me  those  sweet  visions  press 


58  LOVE  POEMS. 

"With  wondrous  Boug,  till  softly  Sleep 
Veils  all  in  deep  forgetfulness. 

And  when  the  dawn  of  waking  day. 
Full  freighted  with  a  thousand  cares, 
Creeps  to  my  couch  to  rudely  lay 
On  slumbering  eyes  her  hand,  and  tears 
With  ruthless  grasp  the  veil  apart. 
That  Sleep,  sweet-lidded,  wove  in  vain. 
Still  sings  the  song  within  my  heart, 
The  echo  of  my  dream's  refrain  ! 


TEE  SOUL   OF  TEE  SAPPEIRE.  59 


THE   SOUL   OF  THE   SAPPHIRE. 

How  soft  upon  my  hand  it  shone, 

A  pledge  of  love,  that  azure  stone, 

So  deep  and  pure  its  every  tone. 

Like  sea  wave's  heart  when  gently  blown. 

It  seemed  within  its  depths  to  hide 
A  secret  from  the  ocean  wide. 
Was  it  a  tear  from  some  pale  bride, 
Above  whose  grave  the  blue  waves  glide  ? 

It  might  have  been  a  star  that  fell. 
And,  caught  within  the  sea's  deep  well. 
For  ages  frozen  there  did  dwell 
Beneath  some  mermaid's  mystic  spell. 

Perchance  she  decked  her  flowing  hair 
With  its  blue  glim'ring  beauty  rare. 
Or  caught  it  'mid  the  flowers  fair, 
Across  her  snowy  bosom  bare. 

And  oft  some  fancy  made  me  think. 
Within  its  beauty  slept  a  link 
To  that  far  world  upon  whose  brink 
The  soul  to  rest  doth  calmly  sink. 


60  '  LOVE  POEMS. 

One  night  when  soft-eyed  sleep  had  flown. 
And  silence  reigned  the  world  alone. 
My  heart  with  sorrow  tempest-blown 
To  my  lost  love  seemed  nearer  grown. 

With  tears  I  bathed  the  holy  ring 

That  to  my  life  his  love  did  bring. 

And  as  my  kisses  warm  did  cling 

There  chanced  a  strange  mysterious  thing  ! 

Beneath  my  lips  I  felt  it  thrill, 
As  though  some  wondrous  power  did  fill 
The  jewel's  heart  with  pulse  and  will. 
To  bid  my  tears  and  grief  be  still. 

And  as  I  gazed  in  rapt  surprise 
Within  the  sapphire's  depths,  two  eyes 
Shone  out  as  blue  as  summer  skies, 
Beneath  a  brow  of  angel  guise. 

And  lo  !  a  lovely  spirit  face 
Smil'd  sadly  with  a  shadowy  grace. 
Yet  seemed  to  hold  no  form  or  place 
Within  the  sapphire's  gleaming  space. 

And  then  I  breathless  seemed  to  hear 
A  voice,  that  on  my  listening  ear 
Fell  with  a  music  soft  and  clear 
As  far-off  bells  that  echo  near. 


TEE  SOUL  OF  THU  SAPPHIRE.  61 

''  I  am  a  maiden's  soul/'  it  said, 
"  Imprison 'd  in  this  sapphire  bed. 
Through  many  countless  years  now  fled 
My  being's  numbered  with  the  dead. 

"  The  soul  of  him  I  loved  doth  keep 
A  weary  vigil  'neath  the  deep. 
While  hopeless  longings  sadly  steep 
With  bitterness  his  dreamless  sleep. 

**  A  mariner  he  was  of  old. 
Who  sailed  the  seas  with  bark  of  gold  ; 
He  would  have  been  my  bridegroom  bold. 
Had  not  the  waters  o'er  him  roll'd. 

"  True  is  thy  heart ;  I've  felt  it  beat 
For  him  whose  soul  you  long  to  meet. 
Ah  !  by  that  love  you  hold  so  sweet, 
Kelease  me,  my  lost  love  to  greet. " 

Then  faint  and  low  the  sweet  voice  grew. 
As  in  the  sapphire's  deep'ning  hue. 
With  tearful  smile,  those  eyes  of  blue 
Slow  faded  from  my  wondering  view. 

And  then  I  woke  to  find  it  all 
A  dream,  whose  spell  did  o'er  me  fall, 
And  with  its  mystic  power  recall 
Some  spirit  from  the  grave's  dark  pall. 


6?  LOVE  POEMS. 

But  never  from  my  memory  fled 
That  strange  sad  message  from  the  dead, 
And  oft  my  wand 'ring  fancy  led 
Me  to  that  far-off  ocean  bed. 

Where  in  his  bark,  amid  the  gold. 
Slept  that  dead  mariner  of  old, 
Whose  weary  soul  did  vigil  hold 
For  her  he  loved  through  years  untold. 

And  oft  I  trembling  seemed  to  hear 
That  pleading  voice  so  low  and  clear — 
And  feel  the  spirit  presence  near. 
That  slept  within  my  jewel  dear. 


At  last  upon  the  summer  sea, 
One  eve,  I  set  the  sapphire  free, 
Deep  in  the  blue  Avaves'  depths  to  be 
Love's  captive  for  eternity  ! 


GOOD  NIGHT.  63 


GOOD   NIGHT. 

Silent  the  room — 
Thine  empty  place 
Where  smiled  thy  face. 
Is  wrapped  in  gloom. 

Dear  Love — good  night ! 

Still  echoes  near, 
Like  whispering  birds 
The  sweet  love-words. 
That  thrilled  mine  ear. 

Oh !  Love — good  night ! 

Tho'  far  apart. 
In  dreams  we'll  meet 
And  feel  the  beat. 
Of  heart  to  heart. 

My  Love — good  night  ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


MY   SANCTUARY.  ' 

There  is  a  chamber  in  my  heart 
Sacred,  from  all  the  world  apart. 
Trembling  and  Bad  within  its  door 
I  enter,  all  my  griefs  to  pour. 
Again,  when  pleasure's  wreath  has  bound 
My  soul  and  senses  gaily  round, 
I  seek  its  silence,  there  to  store 
Treasures  of  joys  that  are  no  more. 
And  lo  !  Love's  mirage  oft  appears 
To  rise  in  splendour — set  in  tears. 
Then  in  that  chamber,  steeped  in  gloom. 
My  hopes  of  love  I  deep  entomb. 

Around  those  chamber  walls  are  spread 
The  spirit  pictures  of  the  dead. 
My  mother's  face  shines  softly  there. 
Framed  in  its  wealth  of  auburn  hair  ; 
Her  earnest  eyes,  with  tender  smile. 
Lifting  my  drooping  soul  awhile 
Out  of  the  toil,  above  the  strain 
"For  all  this  earthly  loss  and  gain  ; 
And  in  the  shadow  of  her  face 
Dimly  another's  eyes  I  trace — 
A  father's  features  come  and  go. 
In  memory's  fitful  ebb  and  flow. 


68  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

There  happy  hours  of  childhood  dear 
Steal  back  on  spirit  wings  to  cheer 
The  long  sad  days,  the  nights  of  thought 
Amid  the  pictures  memory  wrought  ; 
But  oh  !  one  face  I  ever  see — 
Asleep — awake — it  follows  me. 
A  noble  beauty  calmly  lies 
On  lips  and  brow  and  loving  eyes. 
Tho'  that  brave  heart's  fond  beat  is  still. 
That  oft  with  rapture's  pulse  would  thrill, 
Dear  eyes,  within  thy  depths  still  shine 
A  husband's  love — forever  mine  ! 


THE  PICTURE  ON  THE   WALL.  G9 


THE   PICTURE   ON  THE  WALL. 

Oh  !  my  eyes  are  aching 

With  the  tears  that  constant  pour. 
Oh  !  my  heart  is  breaking 

For  a  face  I'll  see  no  more. 
And  my  soul  is  sighing 

In  my  dreams  the  long  night  through, 
And  my  hopes  are  dying — 

As  a  flower  parched  for  dew. 

Bless  thee  !  joys  so  fleeting  ! 

For  the  memories  sweet  ye  give, 
Of  the  rapturous  meeting 

AVhen  'twas  heaven  but  to  live. 
And  our  hearts  were  beating 

Close,  in  unison  divine, 
And  thy  lips,  love  greeting. 

Melted  burningly  on  mine. 

But  'tis  only  dreaming 

When  thy  voice  thrills  sweet  to  me. 
And  'tis  only  seeming 

When  thy  smiling  face  I  see  ; 
As  the  moon's  cold  beaming 

Creeps  past  my  couch  to  fall 
With  its  pale  light  streaming 

O'er  thy  picture  on  the  wall. 


70  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS, 


A   FANTASY. 

In  my  low  and  narrow  bed, 
Every  dream  forever  fled, 
Cold  earth  pillowing  my  head, 
I  shall  sleep  when  I  am  dead. 

Oh  !  that  sweet  unceasing  rest. 
While  the  world  above  my  breast, 
Struggling  with  its  cares  oppressed. 
Wakes  no  echo  in  my  nest. 

Then  o'er  me  slowly  stealing, 
While  I  sleep,  unheeding  feeling. 
Past  regret  and  vain  appealing. 
Creeps  decay,  its  spell  revealing. 

In  the  shimmer  of  my  hair 
It  shall  weave  its  grayness  there. 
Touch  my  cheek,  so  round  and  fair. 
With  a  blemish  past  repair. 

And  my  eyes  shall  droop  and  melt. 
And  my  lips,  where  kisses  dwelt. 
Wither  'neath  the  cruel  stealth 
Of  that  last  long  kiss  unfelt. 


A  FANTASY.  71 

And  each  curve  and  supple  grace 
Of  my  form  shall  it  efface. 
And  death's  hideousness  replace 
All  resemblance  to  my  race. 

Then  the  earth's  mysterious  power 
With  new  birth  shall  me  endower. 
And  I'll  wake  some  sunny  hour, 
On  her  breast  a  beauteous  flower. 

And  the  sun's  caresses  sweet 
Stir  my  petalled  heart  to  beat, 
Till  my  perfumed  soul  shall  fleet. 
Swift  my  lost  love's  kiss  to  meet. 

And  our  mingled  souls  shall  soar 
Far  away,  the  wide  world  o'er. 
On  through  heaven's  golden  door. 
Into  bliss  forever  more. 


72  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


OH,  NIGHT   OF   TEARS 


Oh,  night  of  tears  !  deep  in  thy  gloom 
The  star  of  Hope  thou  dost  entomb, 
While  Care  grim-visag'd  watch  doth  keep. 
And  Grief's  tempestuous  waves  o'ersweep 
AVith  bitterness  the  wearied  soul. 
Then  Memory  sadly  doth  unroll 
With  trembling  hand  her  scroll  of  years,. 
And  dip  them  in  thy  flood,  oh,  tears  ! 


II. 

Oh,  night  of  tears  !  a  dawn  shall  rise 
Across  thy  drooping  sombre  skies, 
And  sweep  the  clouds  of  sorrow  by 
That  darkly  now  across  thee  fly. 
Before  its  lambent  glorious  ray 
The  dawn  of  Heaven's  endless  day 
Shall  banish  all  thy  gloom  and  fears 
And  bitterness,  oh,  night  of  tears  ! 


DEATH'S  LITANY.  73 


DEATH'S   LITANY. 

Come  back  from  the  grave  ! 

Oh  dear  dead  heart — 
Come  back  from  the  grave  ! 

My  soul's  best  part — 
Come  back  from  the  grave  ! 

To  our  desolate  hearth. 
Come  back  from  the  grave  ! 

For  my  lips  are  chill — 
Come  back  from  the  grave  ! 

With  thy  kiss  to  thrill — 
Come  back  from  the  grave  ! 

All  my  life  to  fill  ! 
Come  back  from  the  grave  ! 

To  this  empty  space, 
Come  back  from  the  grave  ! 

In  my  arms  thy  place — 
Come  back  from  the  grave, 

Lay  thy  face  to  my  face  ! 
Come  back  from  the  grave  ! 

Oh  !  thou  happy  past — 
Come  back  from  the  grave  ! 

Let  me  hold  thee  fast — 
Come  back  from  the  grave  ! 

Take  me  home  at  last ! 


74  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


A  DIIEAM   OF   THE   SEA. 

I  dreamed  I  was  sleeping 

Deep,  deep  'neath  the  sea. 
And  a  mermaid,  weeping. 

Kept  Avatch  over  me. 
Each  amber  tress  gleaming 

Soft  shadowed  her  face. 
Fair  as  the  moon's  beaming 

Her  form  I  could  trace, 
In  the  shimmer  and  blow 
Of  the  waves  as  they  flow. 

And  as  I  lay  listening 

In  silence  and  dread, 
'Mid  the  sea-weeds  dim  glist'ning 

I  knew  I  was  dead  ; 
For  round  me  faint  ringing. 

Sweet,  solemn,  and  slow. 
The  mermaids  were  singing 

My  requiem  below. 

In  the  shimmer  and  blow 
Of  the  waves  as  they  flow. 

From  their  coral  nests  trooping 
The  pale-eyed  fish  come. 


A   DREAM  OF  THE  SEA.  75 

And  round  me  all  gi'oupiug 

In  wondering  hum. 
Their  fins  gently  waving 

A  sad  welcome  show. 
As  I  rest  never  craving 
Their  treasures  to  know. 
In  the  shimmer  and  blow 
Of  the  waves  as  they  flow. 

Then  my  hollow  eyes  turning. 

Gaze  up  through  the  deep 
With  an  infinite  yearning. 

As  past  the  ships  sweep. 
And  sometimes  come  straying 

Dear  voices  I  know, 
And  I  hear  them  all  praying 

For  me  sleeping  low. 

In  the  shimmer  and  blow 
Of  the  waves  as  they  flow. 


76  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 


SONG  TO   THE   SOUTHERN    OCEAN. 


Oh  !  sea  so  fair, 

Oh  !  sea  so  bright, 
AVitli  waves  forever  leaping  ; 

What  treasures  rare, 

AVhat  gems  of  light. 
Are  in  thy  bosom  sleeping  ! 

ir. 

Oh  !  sea  so  blue, 

Oh  !  sea  so  cool. 
Oh  !  sea  forever  fleeting  ; 

Whence  came  thy  hue. 

Whence  came  thy  rule, 
Whence  came  thy  waters  seething  ! 

in. 

Oh  !  sea  so  deep. 

Oh  !  sea  so  wide. 
Thy  waves  are  ever  singing 

Of  spells  you  keep. 

Of  scenes  you  hide. 
Where  mermaids'  songs  are  ringing 


SONG  TO  THE  SOUTHERN  OCEAN.  77 

IV. 

Oh  !  sea  so  grand. 

Oh  !  sea  so  great. 
Oh  !  sea  with  endless  pinion — 

A  gallant  band 

Doth  laugh  at  fate. 
And  trust  to  thy  dominion. 

V. 

Their  ships  sail  out. 

Their  ships  sail  in. 
Thy  trackless  billows  over  ; 

Thy  dangers  scout 

The  port  to  win. 
Drop  sail  and  land  the  rover  ! 

YI. 

Oh  !  sea  of  pearl. 

Oh  !  sea  of  gold. 
Oh  !  sea  'neath  sunset  flying — 

Within  thy  whirl. 

Within  thy  fold. 
How  fare  the  dead  men  lying  ? 

VII. 

Oh  !  sea  speak  low. 

Oh  !  sea  tell  true. 
The  tale  of  their  undoing. 

Doth  blossoms  glow 

With  silver  dew 
Their  deep  sea  homes  renewing  ? 


78  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

VJII. 

Doth  nuM-maids  wind 

Their  green  gold  liair 
Around  their  dead  hearts — weaving 

A  chain  to  bind, 

A  net  to  Bnare 
Their  souls  to  endless  grieving  ? 

IX. 

Doth  kisses  fire 

Their  lips  so  cold. 
With  Life's  sweet  spell  returning — 

Doth  dear  Desire 

Her  charms  unfold 
'Ji^eath  mermaid's  glances  burning  ? 

X. 

Or,  do  they  rest 

With  sightless  eyes. 
Within  the  bosomed  hollow 

Of  icy  breast. 

The  pulseless  prize 
The  mermaids  love  to  follow  ? 

XI, 

Oh  !  sea  of  noon  ! 

Oh  !  sea  of  light ! 
Oh,  sea  of  wondrous  splendor  ! 

I  love  thy  moon, 

I  love  thy  night, 
Thy  gloaming,  gleaming  tender. 


SONG   TO   THE  SOUTHERN  OCEAN.         79 
XII. 

Sing  on,  oh  sea  ! 

Sing  on,  oh  wave  ! 
In  thine  own  sublimity. 

Thy  song  so  free, 

Thy  chant  so  brave 
Of  God  and  God's  infinity. 


80  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


THE   GOOD   SHIP   HOPE. 

Oh  !  bright  were  the  skies  and  radiant  the  days 

When  the  year  was  flowing  in, 
And  the  good  ship  Hope  in  a  golden  haze 

We  launched  on  the  waves  to  win 
The  harbor  safe  of  that  glorious  shore, 

The  land  of  success  and  peace. 
Where  the  tide  of  despair  with  moan  and  roar 

Shall  sink  and  forever  cease. 

Oh  !  sombre  the  skies  and  dreary  the  days 

AVhen  the  year  was  ebbing  out, 
And  the  poor  ship  Hope  in  a  misty  haze 

Sank  deep  in  the  sands  of  douljt. 
All  shattered  her  mast  and  tattered  her  sails 

And  battered  her  prow  and  helm. 
With  the  seams  and  scars  of  a  hundred  gales 

'Mid  adversity's  stormy  realm. 

But  we'll  dry  our  tears  and  we'll  laugh  at  fate. 
And  we'll  ris:  her  out  affain, 


THE  GOOD  SHIP  HOPE.  81 

And  old  Captain  Love  and  his  trusty  mate 
Shall  guide  her  across  the  main  ; 

And  we'll  freight  her  full  with  many  a  prayer 
For  that  shore  beyond  life's  sea. 

Till  into  its  harbour  she'll  proudly  bear, 
And  God  shall  her  anchor  be  ! 


82  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


THE  SONG   OF   THE   LEAVES. 

Blow  wind  !  blow  wind  !  merrily  sway 
Our  cradle  of  branches  in  boisterous  play. 

Pour  raiu  !  pour  rain  !  beat  on  our  boughs. 
Freshen  and  brighten,  our  drooping  heads  rouse. 

Beam  sun  !  beam  sun !  gild  us  anew. 

Drink  from  our  green  cups  the  sweet  morning  dew. 

Sing  birds  !  sing  birds  !  deep  in  our  shade. 
The  long  sunny  hours,  till  daylight  shall  fade. 

Sleep  moon  !  sleep  moon  I  softly  thy  light 
Woos  us  and  lulls  us  to  slumber — Good  night ! 


A   WOMAN  OF  LONG  AGO.  83 


A  WOMAN   OF   LONG   AGO. 
An  Allegory. 

There  lived  in  the  long,  long  ago 
A  woman  whose  beauty,  like  wine, 

Thrilled  men  with  a  strange  subtle  glow 
Of  happiness  almost  divine. 

Their  hearts  in  her  tresses  she  bound. 
Like  birds  snared  in  a  golden  net ; 

Their  souls  in  her  loveliness  drowned. 
Like  suns  that  forever  are  set. 

Their  life  with  her  red  lips  she  drank. 
As  a  drunkard  the  deep  cup  drains, 

And  the  glance  of  her  bright  eyes  sank 
Like  dull  fire  in  their  throbbing  veins. 

She  cast  them  away  one  by  one. 

This  woman  of  long  ago, 
Pale  and  dead  from  the  snare  she  spun 

To  the  depths  of  bitterest  woe. 


84  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

And  each  lost  life  over  her  shed 
A  bloom  and  a  charm  ever  new. 

For  the  haunting  eyes  of  the  dead 
Ever  gleamed  from  her  eyes  of  blue. 

Her  lips  with  their  hot  kisses  shone, 
Eipe  as  grapes  full  of  parple  blood. 

While  her  voice  with  the  dead  men's  tone 
Swept  the  world  with  melody's  flood. 

With  their  flesh  lier  round  limbs  were  white, 
And  the  shadows  her  hair  among 

Were  the  dews  from  their  weeping  sight. 
Bitter  tears  from  the  dead  men  wrung. 


8he  e'en  lives  in  her  splendor  now. 
This  woman  of  long,  long  ago, 

The  jewels  of  shame  on  her  brow. 
Her  voice  with  the  same  magic  flov/ 

As  it  rang  in  the  olden  time. 
In  her  riotous  sumptuous  bloom. 

And  she  revels  in  every  clime. 

Laughing  men  to  their  endless  doom. 


THE   TWO  BANDS  OF  SISTERHOOD. 


THE  TWO   BANDS   OF  SISTERHOOD. 

Hear  !     The  wail  of  womanhood, 

As  from  their  haunt 

Of  sin  and  want 
Creep  the  fallen  sisterhood  ; 

All  through  the  night, 

Wayworn  in  flight, 
Wander  the  street  sisterhood  ; 

No  friend  is  near. 

No  love  to  cheer — 
God  pity  that  sisterhood  ! 

See  !     The  joy  of  womanhood. 

In  silken  sheen 

Like  some  fair  dream, 
Behold  !  the  pure  sisterhood  ; 

Through  festive  night. 

In  dance  so  light, 
Whirls  the  happy  sisterhood  ; 

Love  is  her  slave. 

Nothing  to  crave. 
Blest,  fortunate  sisterhood  ! 


85 


86  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Shame  !     Pitiless  womanhood, 

As  in  thy  right 

Of  virtue's  might 
Thou  spum^st  the  lost  sisterhood. 

Back  to  their  haunt 

Of  sin  and  want. 
Alas  !  thou  poor  sisterhood. 

Is  there  no  nest 

Where  thou  can  rest 
Unsinning,  frail  sisterhood  ? 

Behold  !     The  end  of  womanhood. 

As  in  his  lair 

Death  unites  there 
The  two  bands  of  sisterhood. 

Forgiving  all, 

'Neath  his  dark  pall 
Soft  sleep  the  pure  sisterhood  ; 

No  sin  to  fear, 

God's  love  is  here 
To  redeem  thee,  frail  sisterhood. 


THE  TOILERS. 


THE   TOILERS. 

Wearily,  wearily,  work  we  all. 

Some  for  fortune  and  some  for  fame, 

Wearily,  wearily,  meet  the  call 

Of  duty's  voice  through  praise  or  blame. 

Some  of  us  for  mothers. 

Some  of  us  for  gain. 
Some  of  us  for  brothers. 

Some  of  us  for  pain. 


Steadily,  steadily,  toil  away. 
Seeking  our  station  to  grace, 

Steadfastly,  steadfastly,  work  or  play. 
Filling  each  his  rightful  place. 

Through  the  night's  gloom, 
Through  the  day's  bloom. 

Through  years  that  loom, 
Through  our  sad  doom. 


88  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Wearily,  wearily,  toil  we  on, 
Never  to  rest,  never  to  wait, 

Wearily,  wearily,  all  along 
Life's  stormy  road  to  Heav'n'e  gate. 


TEE  DEAD  ACTOR.  89 


THE   DEAD   ACTOR. 

Oh  !  eyes  forever  dim, 

And  lips  forever  mute, 
Framed  in  thy  coffin's  rim, 

Like  some  poor  stringless  hite. 
Is  set  thy  poor  dead  face  ; 

Forever  done  thy  task, 
To  charm  with  mimic  grace  ; 

Beneath  death's  fading  mask. 
Thy  art  hath  left  no  trace. 

Thy  stage — the  graveyard  lone, 

Thy  part — a  sleeper  low. 
Thy  praise — the  wind's  sweet  moan, 

When  gentle  breezes  blow. 
Or  summer  storms  o'ersweep 

With  tears  thy  grassy  mound, 
Where  to  thy  slumber  deep 

Shall  steal  no  waking  sound, 
While  Death  his  watch  doth  keep. 


90  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Then  shall  the  dead  man's  foe. 

On  thy  once  busy  brain, 
Feast,  revel  in  the  flow 

Of  wit  that  doth  remain. 
Creep  in  thy  inmost  heart, 

To  live  where  love  once  beat. 
Devour  with  hungry  dart. 

Slow  melt  with  subtle  heat 
Thy  being's  every  part. 

Beyond  grim  death's  decay 

Thy  soul  shall  proudly  soar. 
To  meet  in  bright  array 

Thy  children  gone  before  ; 
Creations  of  thy  brain — 

Born  of  thy  noble  art, 
They  greet  thee  once  again. 

Each  dear  familiar  part, 
Here  !  is  thy  heaven's  reign. 


TO  AN  ENGLISH  ACTOR.  91 


TO   AN   ENGLISH   ACTOR, 

WHO   DIED   OF   FEVER,  JOHANNESBURG,  SOUTH    AFRICA,  1890. 

Oh  !  tenderly  close  the  deep  sunken  eyes, 

Poor  eyes  that  dimmed  wearily. 
Hopelessly  longing  for  fair  distant  skies 

Where  home  smiles  so  cheerily. 

On  mute,  pallid  lips  now  reverently  rest 

One  last  kiss,  all  tearfully 
For  eyes  that  shall  weep  in  the  far,  far  west, 

And  hearts  ache— ah  !  fearfully. 

Fold  gently  each  cold,  once  eloquent  hand, 

Forever  now  motionless ; 
Cast  o'er  him  the  pall  of  the  Gold-field's  sand, 

In  death  lies  he  portionless. 

'Twas  only  an  actor  that  fell  in  the  fight. 

His  part  playing  valiantly. 
Where  battled  the  town  with  the  fever-blight. 

Like  a  soldier,  died  gallantly. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


MY  MOTHER'S   GLOVE. 

^Tis  but  a  faded  glove, 

With  fingers  frayed  and  worn. 
It  tells  a  mother's  love. 

Through  trial  and  suffering  borne. 
The  patient  tender  hand 

That  throbbed  within  its  fold. 
Now  in  a  far-off  land 

Lies  motionless  and  cold. 

How  eloquently  pleads 

Each  plaintive  little  crease,    • 
For  life's  unselfish  deeds 

Of  toiling  without  cease  ; 
Of  hours  whose  only  light 

Was  children's  happy  eyes, 
Cheering  the  dreary  night. 

Brightening  the  sombre  skies. 

It  hath  no  lingering  scent 
Of  fashion's  empty  pride  ; 


MF  MOTHER'S  GLOVE.  93 

No  jewels  flashing  blent 

Beneath  its  mesh  to  hide  ; 
But  fragrance  rare  and  old 

As  thousand  flowers  lurk 
Within  each  wrinkled  fold 

Of  woman's  precious  work. 

Oh  !  faded  silken  glove. 

Thy  gentle  tenant  now 
Bears  in  the  life  above 

The  signet  on  her  brow 
Of  duty's  legacy ; 

Temptation's  storms  withstood. 
The  pearl  of  purity, 

The  crown  of  motherhood  ! 


94  iSMICELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


CHRISTMAS    MORN. 

There^s  a  holy  light  like  a  beacon  bright, 

Afar  over  land  and  sea. 
Soft  its  lambent  ray  o'er  the  broad  earth  plays 

With  a  rosy  dancing  glee. 
And  the  topmost  peak  of  the  mountains  bleak 

Blush  fair  in  the  glowing  morn. 
Over  wood  and  tarn  sweeps  the  glorious  dawn 

To  herald  the  Child-Christ  born. 

White  the  sea-waves  fling  like  an  angel's  wing 

The  foam  as  their  blue  crests  rise, 
While  each  gallant  ship,  with  a  skim  and  a  dip. 

In  the  wind's  lap  speeding  flies  ; 
And  the  sailor's  song  is  borne  along 

The  breeze  of  the  golden  morn. 
For  joyous  he  sings  as  tlie  mast  he  swings 

To  herald  the  Child-Christ  born. 

In  the  land  of  snow  where  the  keen  winds  blow 
And  the  ice-king  holds  his  sway, 


CHRISTMAS  MORN.  95 

A  glittering  sheen  on  tlie  plains  is  seen. 

As  tribute  to  him  they  pay. 
While  merrily  sing  with  a  peal  and  a  ring 

The  bells  on  the  crystal  morn. 
As  gayly  they  chime  with  silvery  rhyme 

To  herald  the  Child-Christ  born. 

To  his  sea-girt  home,  where'er  he  may  roam. 

Speed  the  thoughts  of  Briton's  son. 
In  city  or  plain,  on  the  crested  main, 

The  heart  of  the  absent  one 
Again  in  his  dreams  with  ecstasy  seems 

To  swell  in  the  happy  morn. 
As  he  hears  the  voice  of  his  loved  rejoice. 

To  herald  the  Child-Christ  born. 


In  dreams  borne  along,  he  joins  the  glad  throng, 

The  riot  and  wassail  gay  ; 
And  the  boar's  head  bold  as  in  Nowel  old 

Brave  crowns  the  feast  of  the  day  ; 
The  holly's  red  blush  'mid  the  ivy's  crush  ; 

The  mistletoe  greets  the  morn 
With  kisses  to  claim  in  love's  holy  name. 

To  herald  the  Child-Christ  born. 


96  MISCELLANEOUS^  POEMS. 

Then  Charity  sweet  with  most  gracious  feet 

Walks  forth  o'er  the  smiling  land, 
To  Avidow's  relief,  to  fatherless  grief. 

She  bringeth  a  helping  hand. 
For  peace  and  good-will  the  whole  world  doth  fill 

With  the  dawn  of  the  Nowel  morn. 
Let  every  heart  sing  a  ghid  welcoming, 

To  herald  the  Child-Christ  born. 


THE  CHRIlSTMAS   WREATH.  97 


THE   CHRISTMAS   WREATH. 

Oh  !  Christmas  wreath  upon  the  wall, 

Within  thine  ivied  space 
I  see  the  years  beyond  recall. 

Amid  thy  leaves  I  trace 
The  shadows  of  a  happy  past. 

When  all  the  world  was  bright. 
And  love  its  magic  splendour  cast 

O'er  morn  and  noon  and  night. 

Oh  !  Christmas  wreath  upon  the  wall, 

'Neath  memory's  tender  spell 
A  wondrous  charm  doth  o'er  thee  fall, 

And  round  thy  beauty  dwell. 
Thine  ivy  hath  the  satiny  sheen 

Of  tresses  I've  caressed, 
Thy  holly's  crimson  gleam  I've  seen 

On  lips  I  oft  have  pressed. 

Oh  !  Christmas  wreath  upon  the  wall, 
A  mist  steals  o'er  my  sight. 

7 


98  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Dear  hallow'd  wreath,  these  tears  are  all 
The  pledge  I  now  can  plight 

To  those  loved  ones  whose  spirit  eyes 
Shine  down  the  flight  of  time  ; 

Around  God's  throne  their  voices  rise 
To  swell  the  Christmas  Chime  ! 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  DINNER.         99 


THE   CHILDREN'S    CHRISTMAS    DINNER 
AT   VICTORIA    HALL. 

"  Mammy,  I  have  been  to  a  dinner  to-day, 

A  grand  Christmas  dinner.     Oh,  my  !  it  was  gay. 

And  Billie  and  me  have  had  phim-piidding  too — 

See,  here  in  this  bag  is  a  nice  bit  for  you. 

We've   had   no  plum-pudding  since    poor    daddy 

died  ; 
And  do  you  know,  mammy,  last  niglit,  when  you 

cried 
'Cause  you  said  we'd  no  fire,  no  light,  or  no  food, 
I  prayed  in  the  dark  to  the  angels  so  good 
To  ask  God  to  send  us  some  dinner  to  eat. 
And  when  bright    morning    came,  right  into   the 

street. 
While  you  were  still  sleeping,  went  Billie  and  me 
To  look  for  the  angels,  but  none  did  we  see. 
And  tho'  I  was  tired,  and  Billie  would  cry. 
And  the  people  pushed  us  when  hurrying  by, 
I  held  on  to  Billie,  for  we  are  so  small. 
The  angels,  I  feared,  would  not  find  us  at  all. 


100  MISCELLANEOUS^  POEMS. 

At  last  I  was  certain  they  all  had  forgot. 

And  I  could    not    help    crying  with    pain  at  the 

thought. 
When  I  lieard  some  one  saying,  '*  Poor  little  dears. 
So    cold    and    so    hungry.     Come,    I'll    dry   your 

tears  1 " 
*  His  voice  was  so  kind,  and  his  smile  was  so  sweet, 
I  knew  that  the  angels  had  sent  him  to  meet 
Little  Billie  and  me ;  so  we  each  took  a  hand, 
And  he  led  us  to  where,  in  a  great  hall  so  grand, 
All  hung  round  with  holly  and  shining  with  light. 
"Was   spread   a   warm    dinner.     Oh,    my  I    what   a 

sight 
To  see  the  poor  children,  like  Billie  and  me, 
All  eating  and  drinking  and  shouting  with  glee. 
When  dinner  was  over,  he  with  the  kind  voice 
Who  found  Billie  and  me,  told  us  all  to  rejoice, 
For  a  beautiful  lady  f  with  heart,  oh  !  so  kind. 
Had  promised  each  Christmas  a  dinner  we'd  find. 
Then  we  set  up  a  cheer  that  nothing  could  still, 
And  we  gave  three  for  him  with  all  our  good  will ; 
Then  a  dear  little  man  %  a  funny  song  sang. 
And  we  shouted  and  laughed  till  all  the  hall  rang. 

*  Clement  Scott.  f  Edith  Woodworth.  J  Toole. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  DINNER.        101 

*  Another  siicli  ^vouclerful  tricks  did  perform. 

That  I  watched  all  the  dolls  on  the  stage  in  alarm. 

I  feared  they  would  vanish  right  into  the  air 

If  he  gathered  them  under  his  magic  cap  there. 

And  then  we  all  marched  on  the  stage,  one  by  one, 

Wliile  the  sweet  pretty  ladies  their  good  work  be- 
gun. 

To  load  us  Avith  dollies  and  sweeties  and  toys. 

And  told  us  to  always  be  good  girls  and  boys. 

And  right  at  the  end,  near  the  door,  in  a  chair, 

f  Sat  the  dearest  old  lady,  so  SAveet  and  so  fair  ! 

And  she  gave  each  a  sixpence,  all  new  and  bright. 

Then  Billie  and  me  held  ours  quite  tight. 

See,  here  they  are  safe,  all  for  you,  mammy  dear  ! 

Now,  you  won't  be  ill  long,  since  we've  brought  you 
such  cheer. 

And  now  you'll  have  dinner,  here's  an  orange  so 
sweet. 

Some  bread  and  some  sugar,  a  nice  bit  of  meat. 

Don't  cry,  mammy  darling,  the  angels  are  near  ; 

They  love  us,  and  guard  us,  and  watch  o'er  us  here ; 

For  we  are  their  children,  the  poor  of  the  land, 

God's  sacred,  unfortunate,  pitiful  band." 

*  Bertram,  f  Mrs.  Keeley. 


102  MlaCELLANEOUti  POEMS. 


SISTER   CLAIRE'S   CONFESSION. 

**  I  saw  her  last  night  in  tlio  moonlight  fair, 

As  I've  seen  her  full  many  a  time. 
While  I  wept  and  prayed  by  my  pallet  bare, 

Till  the  sound  of  the  Matin  bell's  chime. 
Again,  she  stood  in  the  glimmering  light 

Of  the  moon  'mid  the  gloom  of  my  cell. 
And  its  rays  stole  soft  o'er  her  tresses  bright. 

Over  her  shadowy  eyes,  to  dwell 
On  her  pale  damp  brow  with  its  gaping  wound 

And  the  deadly  gleaming  blood-red  flow, 
Silent  witness  to  the  fell  sin  that  doomed 

Her  sweet  young  life  Avith  its  cruel  blow  ! 
Then  I  sobbed,  and  shrieked  in  my  anguish  deep. 

Oh  !  my  sister,  sweet  sister,  forgive  ! 
I  suffer,  I  pray — with  bitter  tears  reap 

Deepest  punishment  here  while  I  live  ! 

"  The  pale  mute  lips  gave  no  answering  word, 
No  pitying  gleam  the  sad  eyes  filled, 

No  pitying  throb  in  the  dead  heart  stirred 
Of  the  sister  my  jealousy  killed  ! 


SISTER  CLAIRE'S  CONFESSION.  103 

Ah  !  lioly  father  !  can  forgiveness  rest 

On  one  like  me  weighted  down  with  years 
Of  dark  deceit,  while  my  stubborn  breast 

Buried  deeply  its  sin  in  secret  tears  ? 
Nay  !  shrink  not  away,  let  me  hold  the  cross, 

'Tis  the  sign  of  God's  merciful  love  ; 
'Twill  give  me  courage  to  tell  of  the  loss 

Of  my  birthright  in  Heaven  above  ! " 

The  waning  light  of  the  long  summer  day 
Through  the  casement  fell,  and  tenderly  lay 
On  the  pallid  face  and  fluttering  hands 
Of  the  dying  nun,  while  the  good  priest  stands. 
Head  meekly  bowed,  strange  fear  in  his  heart. 
Which  throbbing  with  horror  would  wildly  start 
On  hearing  that  awful  confession  fall 
From  one  deemed  the  saintliest  of  them  all. 
In  that  Convent-band  of  women  so  rare. 
Whose  lives  were  deeds  of  sweet  charity  fair. 
Humbly  he  kneels  and  the  crucifix  clasps 
In  her  feeble  hand  as  with  dying  gasps 
She  hoarsely  whispers  her  unhappy  tale 
In  the  listening  ear  of  the  priest  so  pale. 

"  It  was  far,  far  away. 
In  the  long  years  ago. 


104  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Where  a  deep  sunny  bay 

Washed  Avith  ripple  and  flow 
The  white  feet  of  the  clifTp, 

On  whose  moss-covered  heights 
The  fir  proudly  uplifts. 

And  the  eagle  alights. 
It  was  there,  'mid  the  firs 

Guarded  closely  around, 
Where  the  mountain  breeze  stirs, 

That  our  home  might  be  found. 
The  smile  of  our  mother 

Gilded  every  bright  hour, 
The  love  of  our  brother 

Guarded  both  like  a  flower. 
Oh  !  how  joyous  the  days 

When  sure-footed  we  stept 
O'er  the  mountainous  ways. 

Where  the  cataract  leapt. 
The  scream  of  the  eagle 

Echoed  loudly  our  glee, 
As  startled  the  sea-gull 

Fluttered  far  out  at  sea. 
Our  hearts,  like  its  pinion. 

Free  as  heaven  above. 
Ne'er  dreamed  of  dominion. 

Never  whispered  of  love  ! 


SISTER  CLAIRE'S  CONFESSION.  105 

Till  up  from  the  valley. 

On  a  fair  summer  eve, 
The  sweet  hours  to  dally. 

Came  our  brave  cousiu  Cleve. 
Just  returned  from  the  wars, 

With  his  bright  epaulets, 
Won  by  many  deep  scars — 

Which  no  soldier  regrets. 
How  his  bold  handsome  eyes 

Flashed  and  sparkling  shone. 
As  he  told  how  the  prize 

In  fierce  battles  he'd  won. 
Ah  !  how  his  stories  thrill'd 

And  made  our  hearts  quick  leap. 
With  strange  sweet  feelings  fill'd. 

What  spell  did  o'er  us  creep? 
We  knew  naught  of  its  pow'r 

My  sister  dear  and  me. 
We  drank  in  hour  by  hour 

Its  subtle  ecstasy  ; 
But  when  his  eyes  on  her 

With  softened  light  would  rest, 
A  fierce  deep  pain  would  stir 

With  bitterness  my  breast. 
That  strange  pain  taught  me  all, 

And  made  my  young  heart  old, 


106  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Oast  o'er  my  life  tlie  pall 

Of  jealousy's  dark  fold. 
And  she  I  loved  so  dear 

Grew  hateful  in  my  sight. 
Until  I  grew  to  fear 

The  power  of  envy's  might. 
At  last  one  summer  eve 

The  storm-cloud  o'er  me  burst. 
Cleve  asked  me  to  receive 

A  brother's  love  and  trust. 
She  was  to  be  his  bride — 

My  blue-eyed  sister  fair. 
And  in  their  loving  pride 

They  came,  a  happy  pair. 
To  ask  me  to  consent, 

A  sister's  blessing  give. 
God  help  me  I — All  the  pent- 

Up  rage  that  months  did  live 
Deep  in  my  jealous  heart 

Welled  forth  in  bitter  words. 
I  heeded  not  their  start. 

As,  like  poor  frightened  birds. 
They  clung  in  sad  alarm 

Together  hand  in  hand, 
To  hear  my  fury  storm. 

Then  over  all  the  land, 


SISTEB  CLAIRE'S  CONFESSION.  107 

And  out  across  the  sea, 

A  strange  deep  mist  did  spread, 
That  blinded  all  to  me. 

And  tinged  with  lurid  red 
The  sky  and  cliff  and  wave. 

Fierce  murder  in  my  breast 
Raged  like  some  fiendish  knave 

With  its  mad  pain  opprest, 
My  hapless  sister  tore 

I  from  her  lover's  fold, 
And  cast  her  where  the  roar 

Of  swirling  waters  rolled 
Far  from  the  cliff's  high  brink. 

Oh,  God  1— I  see  her  now— 
I  hear  her  shriek— I  think 

Again  I  see  her  brow 
"With  sea-weed  matted  round, 

I  hear  that  awful  cry, 
I  see  her  lover  bound 

From  off  the  cliff's  crest  high. 
And  sink  amid  the  surge 

As  o'er  him  rolled  the  sea. 
To  never  more  emerge 

Through  all  eternity. 
And  they  are  dead— dead— dead— 

And  I  through  weary  years 


108  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

A  life's  atonement  lead 

Through  penitence  and  tears. 
Pray,  holy  father,  pray — 

My  heart  is  growing  still — 
Pray  God  to  make  the  way 

Clear  to  His  holy  will. 
My  sight  is  growing  dim. 

The  cross  before  me  hold. 
Close — closer — till  on  Him 

My  dying  eyes  shall  fold. 
Despair  steals  o'er  my  heart. 

Will  God  forgive  me  all  ? 
With  life  'tis  hard  to  part, 

I  dread  death's  heavy  pall  ; 
For  in  its  gathering  gloom 

I  see  two  forms  uprise, 
And  menace  endless  doom 

For  that  fell  sin  that  lies 
Forever  on  my.  soul. 

Oh  !  God,  in  pity  spare. 
Forgive — forgive  the  whole — 

I  die — despair — despair  ! " 


The  pale  lips  of  the  priest 
Slow  moved  in  silent  prayer. 


SISTER  CLAIRE'S  CONFESSION.  109 

And  when  that  low  voice  ceased. 

With  gentle  rev'rent  care 
Raised  from  her  lowly  bed. 

And  pillowed  on  his  breast, 
The  trembling,  drooping  head. 

The  clammy  hands  caressed. 
Then  solemnly  and  low 

His  voice  stole  on  her  ear, 
Pierced  the  despairing  woe 

That  o'er  her  cast  its  fear : 
"  I  am  thy  cousin  Cleve  ! 

My  poor  lost  sister  Claire, 
Since  that  sad  summer  eve 

I've  sought  thee  everywhere. 
And  now,  thank  God,  at  last. 

E'en  with  death's  portal  nigh, 
I  bring  thee  from  the  past 

Sweet  peace,  ere  thou  shalt  die. 
For  see  !  here  in  thy  hand 

I  lay  this  slender  ring. 
Within  its  shining  band 

Forgiveness  it  doth  bring  ; 
And  list  thee  while  I  tell 

How  'mid  the  roaring  sea 
Deliverance  o'er  us  fell 

And  God's  will  set  us  free. 


110  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

When  on  that  fatal  night 

I  plunged  tlie  cruel  wave, 
I  swam  far  out  of  sight 

Thy  sister's  life  to  save  ; 
And  with  one  arm  afloat, 

I  bore  her  by  my  side. 
Till  suddenly  a  boat 

Slow  drifting  I  descried. 
With  keel  upturned,  it  danced 

With  playful  motion  near. 
Until,  oh  God  !  it  chanced 

Within  my  grasp  to  steer. 
Safe,  through  the  long  dark  hours 

We  floated  on  its  keel. 
Till  life's  returning  powers 

Did  o'er  thy  sister  steal. 
At  morn  upon  the  rim 

Of  that  sea,  heaving  dark, 
I  saw  with  vision  dim 

Approach  a  noble  bark. 
And  nearer  swept  its  sails. 

As  swift  its  course  it  sped  ; 
With  answering  cries  it  liails 

Our  lonely  ocean  bed. 
And  then  again  began 

In  new  scenes  a  new  life  ; 


SISTER  CLAIRE'S  CONFESSION.  Ill 

The  years  their  cycles  span. 

Thy  sister,  my  sweet  wife. 
Yearned  for  her  native  land, 

The  sight  of  thy  dear  face — 
But  here  within  thy  hand 

Her  dying  pledge  I  place. 
Turn  thine  unhappy  eyes 

To  where  in  heaven  above 
God's  sweet  forgiveness  lies, 

And  thy  lost  sister's  love." 

A  tender,  holy  light 

Stole  o'er  the  nun's  wan  face  ; 
Her  dying,  fading  sight 

Lit  with  a  wondrous  grace  ; 
With  one  long  happy  kiss 

Upon  the  golden  band. 
She  passed  in  peaceful  bliss 

To  God's  own  glorious  land. 


112  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


"  SHE." 

Dedicated  to  Miss  Sophia  Eyre  on  her  impersonation  of 
Mr.  Rider  Haggard's  heroine. 

Oh  !  woman  of  the  fair  proud  face, 
The  stately  mien,  the  classic  grace. 
The  life  stream  of  a  royal  race 
Doth  through  thy  heart  exulting  pace. 

The  tragic  splendour  of  thine  eyes 
Flash  lurid  as  a  flame  doth  rise. 
And  darkly  Avhirling,  upward  flies. 
An  offering  to  the  vengeful  skies. 

Thy  voice  the  mellow  ring  of  gold 
In  every  tone  of  love  doth  hold. 
Lo  !  in  thy  wrath  how  grandly  bold 
Its  cadence  proud,  sonorous  rolled. 

Thine  unforgotten  love  doth  seem 
A  story  of  a  centuried  ream 
That,  like  a  star's  bright  fitful  gleam. 
Arose  and  set  within  a  dream. 


"SEE."  113 

Lo  !  'neath  the  wondrous  subtle  power 
Of  mimic  art,  oh  queen  !  thy  dower 
Of  beauty  blooms  a  nightly  flower, 
Within  Melpomene's  radiant  bower. 

A  Celt,  with  glinting  ruddy  hair. 
Thy  woe  and  passion  doth  declare. 
In  velvet  tones,  her  presence  fair 
Hath  caught  thy  charm  and  magic  snare. 


114  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


TO    CLEMENT   SCOTT, 

ON"   HIS    BOOK    OF    LAYS    AND    LYRICS. 

Thy  verse  is  a  lute  and  its  strings  are  of  gold. 
Thy  soul  is  the  music  its  chords  doth  unfold. 
'Neath  sympathy's  fingers  how  tender  the  strain 
That  banishes  sorrow  and  soothes  away  pain. 
But  oh  !   when  love's  whisper  doth  thrillingly  sweep 
The  innermost  chord  of  thy  soul,  hidden  dee]). 
How  rapturously  swells  the  strain  borne  along 
Of  melody  born  in  the  heart  of  thy  song. 


TO  GALATEA.  115 


TO   GALATEA. 

"  Pygmaliou  !  "  I  hear  again 

Tliy  voice  as  through  it  thrilled  the  pain. 

Its  sad  sweet  cadence'  rise  and  fall 

In  trembling  tones,  as  with  them  all 

Thy  soul  went  out  in  thy  "  Farewell, 

Pygmalion  ! " 

Oh  !  it  shall  dwell 
Forever  with  me  in  my  dreams. 
Thy  voice's  music,  till  it  seems 
I  see  again  thy  sweet  pure  face, 
And  gaze  on  all  thy  wondrous  grace. 
Oh  !  Galatea,  in  thy  voice 
Music  and  love  shall  e'er  rejoice  ; 
Upon  thy  lips  the  sacred  kiss 
Hath  genius  laid,  and  thine  the  bliss 
To  feel  and  know  she  doth  inspire 
Thy  soul — thy  being  with  the  fire 
Her  touch  hath  kindled  in  thy  heart. 
To  consecrate  thee  to  her  art. 


116  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


THE   BELLE   OF   THE   BALLET. 

Watch  her  as  she  lightly  trips, 
Lithe  of  limb,  with  supple  hips. 
Flashing  eye,  and  smiling  lips. 
Gracefully  swaying 
To  the  band  playing. 
Dances  the  Belle  of  the  Ballet. 

As  the  music's  rhythm  flows. 
Round  she  speeds  on  nimble  toes. 
All  the  swells  who  sit  in  rows 

Adoringly  gaze, 

And  noisily  praise 
Each  j'^fts  of  the  Belle  of  the  Ballet. 

See  !  what  dainty  grace  she  throws 

Into  every  skilful  pose. 

'Til  she  seems  a  wondrous  rose. 
Rapturously  whirling. 
Maddeningly  twirling, 

Dances  the  Belle  of  the  Ballet. 


THE  BELLE  OF  THE  BALLET.  117 

Louder  swells  the  music  crash. 
O'er  her  charms  the  limelights  flash, 
And  the  heart  of  every  mash. 

Longingly  thrilling. 

Beats  until  willing 
To  break  for  the  Belle  of  the  Ballet. 


118  MTSOELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


ST.   VALENTINE'S   REVENGE. 

St.  Valentine  roamed  'neath  a  wintry  eky. 
While  he  sadly  pondered  the  reason  why 
He  was  left  out  alone  to  shiver  and  die, 
With  his  poor  little  messenger  Cupid  by. 

For  Love's  tiny  bow 

Had  lost  all  its  go  ; 

Benumbed  with  the  cold. 

No  arrow  would  hold. 

Then  St.  Valentine  spoke,  in  tones  sad  and  low, 
"  My  poor  little  comrade,  your  quiver  and  bow 
Forever  are  useless,  for  full  well  I  know 
We  have  an  inveterate,  powerful  foe. 

An  enemy  bold. 

Whose  merciless  hold 

Doth  thousands  enfold, 

The  demon  of  Gold  ! 

"  He  has  stolen  away  our  prestige  and  right, 
Has  made  silly  women  believe  in  his  might ; 


ST.   VALENTINE'S  REVENGE.  119 

"With  his  new-fangled  gifts  has  dazzled  their  sight. 
To  the  old-fashioned  valentine  blinded  them  quite. 

A  jewel,  a  ring. 

Or  some  costly  thing. 

With  sham  glittering 

Of  love  did  he  bring." 

*' Alas  I"  sobbed  poor  Cupid,  "  what  shall  we  do  ? 
Teach  them  a  lesson  they  ever  shall  rue  ; " 
"  For  never  again  shall  lovers  be  true  ! " 
Swore  St.  Valentine  as  with  Cupid  he  flew. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  now  we're  free. 

My  comrade,  we'll  see 

Where  the  sorrow  will  be. 

To  the  women  or  me." 


130  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


THE  GIFT   OF  SONG. 

God's  angel  ouce  with  spirit  wand 
Asunder  smote  the  mystic  bond 
Sealing  the  mute  lips  of  the  soul ; 
And  lo  !  with  full  melodious  roll. 
With  wondrous  cadence  borne  along, 
Sprang  forth  the  glorious  gift  of  song. 

Then  all  the  soul's  deep  suffering 
And  voiceless  pain  did  pathos  bring. 
And  hope  lent  rich  exultant  tone  ; 
E'en  grim  despair's  sad  Avail  and  moan 
With  tender  rhythm  thrilled  the  throng 
Hanging  upon  each  breath  of  song. 

But  oh  I  the  highest  gift  of  all 
This  sweet  soul-language  is  to  thrall 
Our  being  into  peace  and  rest. 
To  lull  the  pain  in  every  breast. 
To  lift  us  to  that  realm  along 
Whose  golden  shore  rings  endless  song. 


TO  MY  MOTHER.  121 


TO   MY   MOTHER. 

Oh  !  mother,  where'er  in  the  realms  of  the  blest 
'Mid  the  dead  mothers'  band  thou  art  happy  to- 
night, 

Come  visit  my  pillow  and  lovingly  rest 

My  soul  'neath  thy  wings'  tender  heavenly  light. 

For  oh  !  mother,  couldst  thou  know  how  I  weary 
Of  life's  hollow  pleasures  and  meaningless  strain. 

Thine  own  gentle  hand  would  break  the  spell  dreary, 
Thou'd  take  me  to  rest  on  thy  bosom  again. 

As  when  a  weak  babe  on  the  threshold  of  life 
Thou  nestled  me  close  to  thy  fond  mother-heart. 

Take  back  to  thine  arms,  from  this  world  and  its 
strife. 
Thy  child  to  new  birth  and  in  heaven  a  part. 


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